The Shadowed Flower
by thatonedimstar
Summary: After a long life of being an assassin and spy, Nevalah decides to spend the rest of her life on an abandoned estate with nothing but her shadow-servants as company. Azriel wakes up in the middle of the night to be notified of a gentle flower-grower that was a Shadowsinger. He is instantly interested in this strange Shadowsinger and strives to learn more and more about her.
1. Chapter One

_There's another one._

That's what his shadows had whispered to him in the middle of the night, rousing him from sleep. At first he didn't understand, but then his shadows told him of this kind flower-grower that could harness shadows as he did. She had them whispering in her ear and listening in the lush gardens around her home.

He couldn't get the words out of his mind. And no matter how much he told his shadows to get information on her, they wouldn't respond. First, he thought they were disobeying him but then they told him they simply couldn't get any information because her shadows were blocking them.

That piqued his interest. She wasn't just a Shadowsinger but she was a well-trained one. She knew how and was able to protect and block herself from other Shadowsingers despite how rare they were.

* * *

The first couple of chapters will be shorter until we get further into the story.


	2. Chapter Two

Eva was lounging on a cushioned chair in the corner of her candle-lit study reading a book when a shadow wrapped around her ear and notified her of other shadows slithering around her gardens that were trying to get in and get information.

She'd been terrified—and curious at the same time. She let them creep into the outskirts of her gardens but she soon felt as if they were stealing away the privacy and sanctuary from her home so she ordered her shadows to push them back and send them home to their master.

Moments later her shadows returned and reported that the strange shadows had retreated and they would keep them at bay until she let them in. If she would let them in.

Maybe she would let them in, maybe she wouldn't. It might be nice to have someone to talk to that wasn't a shadow intending on tearing her apart or filling her with light and joy.


	3. Chapter Three

After a long night of not sleeping Azriel was walking down the streets of Velaris with his brothers and High Lady when a wisp of shadow wrapped around his ear and started to whisper a report on the other Shadowsinger they had scouted out hours later.

_Shimmering hair like moonlight. Eyes like fresh-cut diamonds. Sun-kissed skin crafted after years under a blazing sun. A gown made of silk and fine chiffon rustling in a warm Summer breeze. A petite form graced by a shield of sharp shadows poised like daggers to protect their kind master. An all-knowing look at the shadow intruders spreading across her cared-for garden. Pride and joy. Uncertainty. Fear and regret. Calculated panic. Decisive orders. Attack. Pushed out—_

"Everything good, Az?" Cassian asked falling back from his High Lord and Lady to walk beside his brother.

"Yeah," he said, though he couldn't honestly tell what he was feeling.

She'd let his shadows in, that much was obvious. But then she'd regretted it and pushed him out. No one had ever pushed him out. No one has ever been able to. Before he could let it eat him alive, he reminded himself that he hadn't ever met another Shadowsinger either.

She had to live in the Summer Court and had enough money to afford silk and fine chiffon as well as have enough time to tend to a flourishing garden. But still, he didn't know if he was serving Summer's Lord or if she was living in peace on her own.

A wisp of shadow that wasn't his wrapped around his ear, the feeling of it warm and soft against his skin, far different from the cold and hardness of his own.

Cassian cast him a suspecting glance but said nothing as they continued to walk down the road.

_My master wishes to be polite and ask for information. May I ask? _

The soft feminine lilt to the voice of the shadow was strange to hear from that dark wisp of shadows. Their master was a lady, it made sense.

The question struck him as off, but he nodded in a slight dip of the chin anyway. He knew that if she wanted, she could have her shadows sneak around glean information without making themselves clear despite the wards in place. While the wards stopped her shadows from finding out about Velaris, they did nothing to stop them from learning about Azriel.

_She would like your name and motives. If she is pleased with your answer she may reply with an answer of her own._

Fair enough. He replied through her shadows by directing his thoughts to the mass of darkness and it quickly sneaked away. He wanted to learn about this new and strange Shadowsinger. If that meant letting go of some information of his own, he would.

Minutes passed and her shadow didn't return. For some reason, his chest deflated at the idea of losing connections with a fellow Shadowsinger. He didn't understand why he was feeling so connected so quick to this woman who lived so far away from him.

His chest filled with a sort of excitement when her shadow returned to wrap around his ear.

_Nevalah. I only wish to live in peace at my home but I have been lonely and I wouldn't mind a friend. Especially one that is a fellow Shadowsinger._

This time when her shadow started to fall away, he sent one of his own after it. Protect her, he ordered though he had no doubt she could keep herself safe.

His shadows came back muttering words of warmth and beauty and safety. He didn't know if they were speaking of the Shadowsinger or the gardens that she so carefully looked after and tended.


	4. Chapter Four

The ground was warm and soft beneath Eva's bare feet as she walked along one of the dirt paths winding through her gardens. Bright-colored flowers lined the path, blooming from bushes of rich green leaves, their intoxicating smells mixing in with the shadows.

Her shadows skirted along the edges of the path and circled the light and flowing skirts floating around her ankles. They crawled up the carefully embroidered bodice of her gown and hugged her shoulders, surrounding her form as she meandered through her gardens.

Some of the shadows recited the past in frightening detail that chilled her down to her very bones and others that tried to talk over their evil brethren in calming and reassuring voices about the most beautiful flowers in the garden and their favorite.

Amongst the cacophony of taunts and prayers, there was a cool-mist silence. The stranger's shadows—_Azriel's_ shadows—had joined the mix.

While their presence was welcomed and cherished by the other shadows, she felt uneasy about them. Every couple of seconds they would break off and sneak away into the winding bushes and disappeared for a couple of seconds before returning.

Every time one of them went, she sent one of her own with them. And when they returned they spoke of wards blocking them from scouting anything but the Shadowsinger himself.

He had to be working for a High Lord if he was somewhere as warded as it was to not even let her shadows in. She had trained them to weave through even the most complicated wards. It seemed that the place he was in was too advanced for even her to break into.

That should've scared her off, but she was known for wanting to know everything possible about Prythian. That's why she ended up being an assassin and spy in the first place. People had practically paid her to hand over their most guarded information and all she had to do was get rid of their problem or gather even more top-secret information.

Her interest hit a high when her shadow returned and reported this male was a winged warrior loyal to his Dark Lord. Illyrian, then. So she knew at least knew the Shadowsinger was in the Night Court and served its High Lord, Rhysand.

That was another warning, but when had she ever listened to warnings? Never.

Eva turned down a path that leads her to the large manor she called home.

It was a grand two-story manor that she had found in despair centuries ago after she retired from being an assassin. The windows and doors had been broken and mostly shattered. The wisteria that winded up the white-stone walls had been unruly and half-dead. It had taken decades to tame the overgrown gardens and even longer to repair the insides to its former glory.

A quick pointed thought had half of her shadows scrambling away from her, gathering the shadow-male's shadows and pushed them back to keep them from following her any further.

While she was fine with them following her through the gardens, it was a whole other thing to let them into her home she had worked on for so long. Especially if the shadows worked for a male that lived and served the Night Court.

She walked up the sun-warmed stone steps to the beautifully made glass doors leading into the marble-floored main hall of her home and turned around to look at the line of shadows dancing along the central gravel path. The sweetness of the flowers wrapped around her, calming her rising nerves.

The Night Court and its ruler weren't bad, she knew that. In act, she'd met the Illyrian general once and he had been… brash, but he'd been kind and genuine. If this Azriel was anything like him, she knew she didn't have to worry. But still, she wasn't going to take any risks.

For a split moment, she was pissed at that Shadowsinger as well as at herself. Just by letting his shadows follow her around freely, their master already knew the exact layout of her gardens. And she'd let him in. That in itself made her seethe. She hadn't let anyone close enough to know the layout of her gardens and the idea of a Night Court warrior knowing… She had to remind herself that she could push him out at any time if she pleased.


	5. Chapter Five

She had blocked his shadows again.

Azriel had been getting a steady stream of reports on Nevalah for a good hour while she walked through her peaceful gardens, wreathed in shadows of her own and his, but as soon as she went to enter her grand manor she had created a firm line and didn't let any of his shadows leak through.

He was starting to get intrigued by her caution.

She was taking all these precautions and they were all carried out skillfully and without a single string left loose. Where her shadows made a ring around her home, they also guarded the sky whenever one of his shadows tried to take to the air and enter that way.

Not to mention the grace and dignity in which she held herself. While he hadn't seen her, his shadows spoke of her calmness and complete awareness of her surroundings. As if she could hear the bugs crawling in the dirt beneath her light and agile feet.

He couldn't understand the absolute need he had to meet her.

For all he knew, this woman could be an assassin employed to lure him away from his home to steal his life. She could be plotting a way to break through the wards, or maybe she already has but is just gathering information before she attacks.

There was no way to know if she truly wished to be kind of if she was just putting on a facade to get close to him. Maybe… just maybe…

Maybe she truly was kind and only wished to befriend a fellow Shadowsinger and was only being cautious. He couldn't blame her for that. Because he was in Velaris protected by millennia of wards and spells and she only had her person and the shadows that had attached themselves to her very essence and soul.

If he was in her shoes, he would've been pushing him out non-stop and putting up every possible barrier he could. Not meandering through gardens acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

He just hoped Nevalah was as kind and calm as his shadows said her to be.

* * *

Fun fact: I'm writing all of this by hand in a journal and having to translate it on to my computer. It makes you think more about what you're writing. So if you're a writer, try it!


	6. Chapter Six

It took one glance around her large and lofty library to find information on the Night Court.

Sitting down on one of the many couches in the two-story library, Eva started to flip through the leather-bound book. The book consisted of hundreds of pages, all gathered from reports and information she had obtained through working and the whispers of her shadows. The oldest of the pages were yellow with age and the ink was smudged with repeated use. She couldn't even remember when she'd first gotten information on the much-private Night Court, but she did know that every piece of information had been fact-checked multiple times by herself and her shadows.

It only took a couple of seconds and a couple of pages to find the section that was dedicated to the Night Court's spymaster, Azriel. She was disappointed in herself for not realizing it any sooner. But she had to be kind about it because after that monstrous queen Amarantha declared control of Prythian, Eva had given up on gathering any sort of information and stopped trying to remember the information she did have. She didn't want to be used by Amarantha if by some miraculous mistake she was caught by the evil queen.

A clock chimed somewhere deep in the halls of her home, the sound reverberating through the marble floors and stone walls.

She held the book to her chest as she stood up, the layers of her skirt whispering with the movement, and started down the gold-gilded halls towards the center of the manor where the comfy informal dining room was.

She had two servants, a maid, and a cook. They were both orphaned lesser fae that Eva had come across centuries ago when they were hardly even twenty-years-of-age. She offered them sanctuary and access to her coffers if they would make two fresh meals a day and made sure every surface wasn't covered in dust.

They always went above and beyond with their work. A fresh meal would be prepared expertly three times a day and every surface was shining to the point where Eva could see her reflection everywhere she looked. Sometimes they would even organize and catalog the thousands of books in the library on a day off.

The farther down the sparkling halls she went, the stronger the smell of exotic spices was. She'd had the spices imported from the Summer Court capital, Adriata, weeks ago and it had only arrived yesterday.

Walking into the dining room, she banished her shadows and sat down at the mahogany table on a cushioned velvet seat. All around her, potted plants lined the room full of bright flowers and lush leaves. Birds chirped from where they sat inside golden cages hanging from the vaulted ceilings.

"The Night Court, eh?" a blue-haired faerie said walking out of a short wooden door, a crystal decanter full of bubbling red wine cradled in her thin arms. She set it down in the center of the table before she took a seat beside Eva at the small round table.

The faerie, Maria-Anna was a soft-faced, thinly built woman with plump round lips. Her kind round almond-shaped eyes was a shining red that was largely contrasted to her light periwinkle skin.

"I wanted to learn about their Shadowsinger," Eva said as she set the book down beside her empty place-setting and poured herself a short glance of wine.

"That's their spymaster, correct?" she asked, pouring herself a glass of wine as well.

"Yes, Azriel," Eva said, taking a long sip of the floral-tasting wine.

The short door opened once again and a tall long-limbed faerie male came through the engraved doorway, three steaming plates of food precariously balanced in his arms. While his pale complexion and delicately pointed ears made him look like a High Fae, his oddly long limbs and hair that flowed over his shoulders like molten flame pinned him as a faerie.

He set a plate down in front of the females and one at an empty spot before he bowed his head and slipped away through the door.

Eva picked up the fork beside her plate, the cold metal biting into her slightly calloused hand, and stabbed into a piece of the tender fish and popped it into her mouth. She didn't even try to hold back the moan that rumbled through her body at the delightful taste.

She'd forgotten how good the spiced fish from Adriata tasted. The last time she had it was over two centuries ago when she traveled to Adriata for a small vacation.

The faerie male, Onyx came back through the door, a bulky book folded under one of his arms and a glass pitcher full of iced water in his other hand. He put the pitcher of water down in the center of the table beside the decanter of wine before he sat down across from Eva. A smile lifted the corner of lips as he looked over at Maria-Anna, his wife.

They'd been married for a couple of decades but Eva could remember when they were only falling in love mere years after they arrived at the manor.

"You're not done that book yet?" Maria asked, raising her eyebrows as she propped her head up on a fist, looking at the book beside Onyx's hand.

It was a large volume, the title written in an elegant silver script. He was the only person out of the three of them that truly read. Eva read, but that was a way for her to gather and remember information that could one day save her life. Maria read, not as much as her husband who always had a book in his hands, but she did. At least two books a month.

"I've only bee reading it for a day. And it's large." He said, opening to his current page as he took a bite of the fish. He tilted his head and his lips flicked up in approval. Eva would definitely be putting an order in for more spices as soon as she could.

Maria turned back to Eva. "So, Azriel."

Eva raised her silver eyebrows and took another sip of wine. "What about him?"

"He's a mysterious male." She said, picking up her wine and sipping it.

"As far as I know, everyone in the Night Court is mysterious," Eva said, taking another bite of fish. "Plus, he's a Shadowsinger so he's naturally mysterious. And honestly, you're the one that followed a cloaked woman covered in shadows into a dark forest at midnight."

Maria snorted and Onyx gave his wife a pointed look. "She has a point, love."

Maria stuck her tongue out before she dug into her food, a smile lighting up her face as she tasted the fish she had been working on for the whole morning.

Eva went to retorted something but a wisp of shadow came to wrap around her ear and it muttered, _The shadow-male wishes to speak to you. Would you allow it?_

She nodded. _I allow it._

Maria and Onyx were silent as they watched Eva and the fading shadows out of the corner of their eyes. They were both iffy around her shadows if only because they wouldn't want something spying on them. They knew that the shadows wouldn't dare do anything against Eva's orders, but they simply couldn't shake their primal instincts against them. She couldn't blame them for that.


	7. Chapter Seven

When Azriel had asked through the shadows if he could speak to Nevalah, he didn't think she would reply let alone allow him to speak with her. Her shadows came to him saying that their master was at lunch but she was kind enough to give him a moment of her time. He knew the bite in the words was from the shadows themselves, not the quiet lady that sent them.

A rift opened in the line of her shadows and gave his a direct line to the dining room, making sure that not one wisp of shadow strayed from the long marble halls of the manor that were lit up with natural light from the wide-open windows.

He didn't know what he was going to say. If anything he would know the way to the dining room and the layout of it. For all he knew, knowing that could end up saving his life one day.

His shadows were herded into a small room. He was shocked to learn about the informality of it, how there was only one small table that could, at most, fit four people that were worn with age and use. Loved carpets were thrown across the floor and colorful tapestries lined the walls, peeking out from behind a wall of plants. With the grandeur of the manor, he expected a large dining hall full of golden plates and goblets, not small chipped porcelain plates and crystal glasses that were foggy with use.

There were three people in the room, all of them sitting at the table, Nevalah and two lesser faeries, a female and male. They sat in a comfortable silence as they watched the steaming dishes of fish, asparagus, and rice in front of them. The two faeries glanced at each other, and by the softness and emotion in their eyes, married, or dating.

The silence was short-lived, for the kind-hearted faerie female stood up slowly, casting a sheltered glance at Nevalah who sat to her right. "I don't like the look of all those shadows. I'll be in the kitchen tidying up."

Her voice was soft and respectful as she regarded the Shadowsinger. A servant? Friend? Maybe both. Though her flowing blush pink silk dress and seemingly perfect female form made her look as regal as any high held High Fae, not even his shadows knew what to think of this strange faerie or what position she held with the polite owner of the manor who looked to her with a strong sense of pride.

She stepped away from the small table and a wind fluttered the light layers of her dress as she looked to her lover who sat there as if he was holding court. Steely gray eyes that reminded Azriel much of Amren's darted around the room tracking the shadows as they floated around like pure wisps of night.

"Are you coming, Nyx?" the faerie asked the male. As his eyes shifted to hers, they softened and a love-addled smile found its place on his lips, though it looked strangely feline on him. He crossed one leg over the other, shifting in the well-cushioned chair to lean back lazily in a smooth and effortless movement.

"I want to see what's going to happen." He said, and his wife gave him an incredulous look. "It's not that often that Mistress Eva lets her shadows near us."

"Those aren't all her shadows," the faerie female said matter-of-factly. Azriel didn't understand what powers or type of lesser faerie she had to be to discern whose shadows were whose.

Nyx glances around the room, his eyes seeming to see more after the information was given to him. He hummed, "Guess they're not. Only makes this more interesting."

The female seemed ready to smack the back of his head for jumping headfirst into something that she deemed very idiotic, but Eva cut in, her voice soft and polite, "Stay or go, but I don't want his shadows in my home for longer than necessary."

The female's striking red eyes shot to her mistress and they glowed with amusement. She pursed her lips and cast another look at Nyx before she turned and left through a small servant's door on near-silent feet.

Eva tapped a light finger on the table beside her full plate of food, the delicate sound instantly being eaten up by the surroundings. Nyx shared a conceded look with her before he picked up the open book beside him and started reading it. That was all Azriel needed to know to understand she had just conveyed some sort of message.

"What did you want to speak to me about?" Eva said, her voice more commanding and prominent than it had been mere moments ago when she spoke to her confidant. The shift in tone startled Azriel so much that it took a couple of seconds to realize that she was speaking to him.

"I wanted to learn more about you." He said mind-to-shadows, stumbling for words, but luckily, they came out crisp and clear. He was yet again surprised when his voice came out into the small dining space.

Nyx stiffened even more and his grip on the book tightened to the point where the pages started to dent. He closed the book and put it down on the table, repositioning himself to sit normally. Casually, he picked up a fork and continued to eat.

"Well," Eva started, taking a break to sip on the expensive wine in her crystal glass, "you're the Night Court spymaster, I'm sure you can find out whatever you want about me if you truly wanted."

It had only been a couple of hours since they first learned of each other, it was a surprise that she already knew who he was.

"I could, but you've been extremely polite so I wanted to return the favor." He said, letting the truth come through his court-trained self. Her crystal eyes slowly glanced around the room as she sipped on her wine, effectively draining it as she studied the room as if it held some sort of long-lost secret.

Nyx gave her a warning look beneath his eyelashes but she completely dismissed it. She was thinking, hard. That much he could tell without his shadows specifically whispering it to him.

Her eyes landed on Nyx's and she stared right into them as she announced, "My name is Nevalah Clarryn, retired spy and assassin. I work for no one but myself. I have a library full of information on every somewhat-notable faerie or High Fae of Prythian and Hybern in the last thousand years. My information is open to the Night Court but any transaction must be done in person and at my estate. No more than two people may accompany the High Lord or Lady. And yes, I will only hand the information over to the High Lord or High Lady themselves and only one of them can come at a time."

Nyx shot to his feet, the chair tumbling back against the wall, knocking over a potted plant and sending dirt flying all over the room. Eva didn't react, her face a mask of stone, she just tilted her head, her near-glowing white hair cascading over her bare shoulder as she looked at the angered male. Mother, even Azriel would've reacted in shock if he was there. Yet again, Eva lived with the male, she knew him and his actions and was probably expecting that as soon as she opened up.

The male opened his mouth to argue, elongated canines as sharp as daggers bared in a snarl, but Eva shot to her feet in one quick and smooth movement so fast that a brush of wind swirled through the room, rustling Nyx's fiery hair and silencing whatever he was to say.

Her shadows struck his with such a hard and unforgiving force that they stumbled back into the hall, startled by the surprise attack, but Azriel told them to stay and hold the lines. It took a lot of willpower on his side for his shadows there, but he had a feeling she was letting them stay.

Such calculated thoughts were rolling through her mind as she leaned her hands against the table, the old wood groaning and shifting under her lightweight, and stared Nyx down with an unforgiving and hard gaze. He could see her as an assassin giving that look to her target or to someone who was simply pissing her off that day. The idea of it didn't sit well in the pit of his stomach.

Her lip raised, showing a row of perfectly straight teeth as she said, her voice cool and low, "You do not get to argue against my choices in my own home."

The cool command in her voice chilled Azriel down to his bones, it just didn't fit her delicate form. It was so contrary to her warm and kind nature she had been showing mere minutes earlier that it was shocking, not like Amren, someone you expected that kind of reaction from.

_Seething_. His shadows told him of the faerie male. Slowly, as if it pained him, Nyx took a step back, his lips pressed into a thin line as he ran his hands through his hair. It looked as if he was running his hand through pure flame. He spun and slammed a fist onto the table, sending the dishes rattling and causing the water pitcher to stumble off of the table and shatter on the floor, drenching the plush carpets.

"Check yourself before I do it for you." She said and gave him a long, unfeeling look that would send any lesser male running for the mountains. She gave him a once over before she turned, bunching the layers of her skirt in one hand and carefully stepped over the scattered pieces of glass and cubes of ice as she made her way to the wide-open doors that lead to the hallway.

As Eva made her way through the wall of shadows and into the hallway, she dropped her skirts to let them hang loosely around her ankles and told Azriel through the shadows, I will kindly ask you to leave now.

He'd overstayed his welcome. At his order, his shadows retreaded quickly through the light-filled halls. Her shadows followed after his until they faded into nothing.


	8. Chapter Eight

After the first couple of times Azriel had communicated with her on that first day, he didn't reach out for another couple of months. His shadows hadn't even been on her estate at all, which confused her at first, causing her to send out more shadows to survey the grounds, but it seemed he just didn't feel the need to watch her. Eva was crouched in front of a flower bush decorated with large and vibrant orange flowers in her garden, clipping the overgrown branches and tidying up the leaves when a cold wisp of shadow escaped from the ground—Azriel's shadow.

When it first did, she was shocked into stillness, pausing her delicate work. The shadow, as cool as night mist and as hard as stone circled her body as if it were a dog sniffing out for danger, before finally wrapping around her ear and whispering, _The Night Court requires your information._

She raised an eyebrow, the deathly stillness falling from her limbs, and lifted from her crouch, the silk of her dress scuffing against the dirt of the path, and brushed off the fallen leaves and twigs. The plants rustled in a soft afternoon breeze, the leaves hissing as air streamed through them.

_When would you like to come? _She asked through his shadows before it slid away and faded into nothing, setting down the metal tool she was using and piled up the cut off twigs before laying them in a wooden basket lined with a white cloth. Picking up the basket, she started towards the manor, her silk slippers doing little to protect her feet from the rough gravel of the main path.

When she told Azriel she was open to being a resource to the Night Court, she wasn't expecting them to need her so soon. She was expecting that, at the soonest, they would reach out to her in two years if not a decade or two. That only made her wonder what, exactly, they needed information on. Of course, she wouldn't ask because she didn't want to trigger one of them to attack her or her manor, but she would figure out. If they did come, that is.

Eva dumped the contents of the basket on the side of the path before making her way up the stairs and walked through the open front doors into the main hall where Azriel's shadows finally returned to her, _Within the hour, if you'll have us._

She contemplated for a moment as she walked up the grand marble staircase to the second floor, the only sound in the grand, vaulted main hall the light falls of her steps on the plush velvet carpets running up the center of the stairs. Part of her mind told her not to help the Night Court, but part of her also told her she should give them all the information they asked for. They were the most feared and powerful Court in all of Prythian and allying with them could either go very, very bad, or very, very good. She hoped the Mother would be kind and would let it be a good end.

_Don't forget my conditions. I will be expecting you guys in the front main way within the hour_. She said through Azriel's shadow that had wrapped around her shoulder. It fell away to the marble floors of the hall and slithered along the walls before finally falling away.

If she was letting them into her home, there was no need to block out Azriel's shadows when he would be searching the estate when he arrived later anyway. Because she knew Azriel would be coming with the High Lord. The only remaining question was who was coming with the Shadowsinger and High Lord.

Walking down the light-filled upstairs hallway towards her chambers, the sheer gossamer curtains framing the open windows fluttering in the light winter breeze, Eva decided that she was being so utterly stupid to let them in her home.

* * *

Seconds earlier, moments after she told Maria and Nyx about the members of the Night Court visiting, Azriel's cool-mist shadows had come onto the estate and started to search through the grounds and halls, not leaving one inch unexplored. It was all the information she needed to know that he was searching before he and his High Lord arrived.

Eva was stepping down the stairs, her steps quick as she made her way down the stairs and to the front door, Onyx trailing after her, his steps heavy as he was near-yelling, "Are you being serious?"

"Have I ever lied to you?" she said, keeping her voice calm despite the nerves that were rising in her throat, running her hand along the golden railing, the light blue gossamer of her skirt trailing behind her. She'd changed into a loose dress just in case she had to protect her home or her friends, because she wasn't afraid to attack the most powerful High Fae in the history of Prythian if it meant keeping her family safe.

"You haven't but—" She paused and spun on him, cutting his words off and making him stumble forward a step before he steadied himself on the railing. His knuckles were white as he gripped the railing and his lips were set in a thin line, his hair blazing as it was fueled by his anger.

"Go help your wife prepare dinner," she said and turned, rushing down the stairs, because one of her shadows had wrapped around her ear and notified her that the Dark Lord, Shadowsinger, and a winged warrior was standing in the main drive, waiting or her.

High Lord Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian came then. It wasn't too surprising since she had spoken to Cassian before and he probably wanted to see her again.

"You can't just send me off into the kitchens!" he said, raising his voice as they reached the bottom of the stairs, his boots pounding against the floor as he trailed after her. "I'm not going to let you do this idiotic thing alone."

Her hands were shaking slightly as they were folded in front of her stomach, because through the fogged glance of the large double-door she was seeing two winged figures standing in the middle of the path, a tall muscled male standing between them. Onyx sure wasn't wrong when he said this was a stupid idea.

She gripped onto the engraved golden doorknob of the large front doors and willed her nerves to settle. Pulling the door open, the sound of chirping birds and rustling of leaves wrapped around her, she said, "Go help your wife. I won't tell you again." The words didn't hold the bite she intended.

Onyx stared into her eyes, the cold gray of them seeming to stare right into her soul. His eyes flicked behind her, darkened, then looked back to her. He said, his voice near-silent, "Don't expect me to come running when you shout for help."

He looked behind her once more, closed his hands in a tight fist, and turned before he started down the hall towards the kitchen, his boots echoing in the halls. Her grip tightened on the doorknob to the point where the metal groaned before she turned and faced the three males standing outside.

* * *

It took everything in her to not turn around and run at the sight of the High Lord. He stared her down as if he was the predator as she was pray, his hands lazily stuffed into his pockets, a sensual smirk playing on his lips. Her shadows started to pull on the tight hold she had them in and they started whispering horrid things despite them being pushed far down and far away.

_See that, he's not intimidated by you._

_One thought from him and you're his little plaything._

_Wouldn't want him sneaking into your mind and ruining everything you've worked for, would you?_

She was about to give in to their taunts and let them free when Maria came slipping through the door, a heavy leather bag half-heartedly thrown over her shoulder. The bag that held gold and silver.

Eva spun to look at her, the High Lord's attention shifting to Maria. Her blue hair fell over her bare shoulders in soft waves and her green dress was in impeccable condition for working in the kitchen all morning. Her red eyes were pinned on Eva as she offered a sheepish smile, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

"The spices just got in, I thought I would run to the village quickly and grab them." She said, stepping down the first stair alongside Eva, their feet silent against the stone. Mother, save that girl.

"Have that Jarod boy help you. Tell him I'll pay him extra for it," Eva said and Maria nodded before running down the rest of the stairs, giving a sloppy bow to the High Lord and the group before she ran off into the gardens, disappearing behind the hedges and trees, not affected at all by the fact that the three most powerful Illyrians were right in front of her.

Maria knew exactly what she was doing when she came out. That girl deserved the world. Still, it didn't change the fact that Eva had to speak to them and entertain them for at least a couple more hours.

Choosing the safest option, she looked to Cassian, a blank expression on his face that wasn't as intimidating as he would've liked it to be. He couldn't walk into her mind and make her murder her family. "You still owe me a piece of information. I told you where your friend was, but I never got anything in return."

His mask slipped as he smirked, crossing his large and corded arms in front of his armored chest. How in Mother's name had she dealt with him before?

"I just thought you were doing a handsome male a favor." He said, that smirk not leaving his lips.

"That favor was not selling your location to the highest bidder." She said, forcing a soft smile to her lips. Honestly, she'd thought about selling the information to Hybern in exchange for information on their generals, but she had decided against it because she didn't want to kick an already down male. In the end, she should've sold their location because then she could've stopped Amarantha.

"And I thank you for that," he said, dropping his arms to his side. Eva looked back to the High Lord and found herself shrinking under his impervious gaze so she looked over to the shadow-male, Azriel.

His hazel eyes bore into her, but she didn't shrink or feel the need to. He was a Shadowsinger like her and had gone through something horrendous to be able to harness the shadows that haunted him. Just that gave her strong respect for him.

Tilting her head, she looked at him and the shadows wrapping around his muscled form. At the way they danced around his shoulders and how they swirled before fading into the bright blue sky. He'd let them out, to intimidate, to protect, she didn't know, but all it did was call her shadows further to the surface, but in happiness instead of the need to taunt their master.

She'd never seen another Shadowsinger and it was… strange. Her shadows pushed against the hold, harder and harder as seconds passed, begging to be released to play with the other shadows. They'd never had such a playful intent.

Cassian and the High Lord looked between the both of them, their eyebrows slightly lifted. Azriel had been the one to tell them of Eva, that she was sure of, but she just wasn't sure what he had said about her. And she couldn't ask him, because the second she would let one of her shadows go, it would be like a domino effect, pulling the rest of the shadows along with them.

"Azriel," she said as greeting, bowing her head as she reached the bottom of the steps, her bare feet landing lightly on the gravel. She used the slight pain of the tiny rocks biting into her skin to ground herself and keep her shadows reigned in.

"Eva," he said, bowing his head. One of his shadows reached out to her, the curl of darkness cold yet inviting. The way he clenched his fists showed that he was trying to pull it back but was failing. At that, she knew they wouldn't win this fight to hold their shadows back.

She loosened her grip just enough to send a message to Azriel saying, _They won't stop, just let them go._

He searched her face, his eyebrows knitting together in a last attempt to hold back his shadows. In a moment, the shadows broke out from him in a wave of darkness, roiling like a plump storm cloud. The High Lord and Cassian stumbled back, the latter reaching to a dagger tied to his thighs and the former looking between them, trying to figure out if it was an attack or not.

Despite her will not to, she stumbled back as a cloud of cool-mist shadows came shooting straight towards her.


	9. Chapter Nine

When Eva had first walked out of her manor after strictly ordering Nyx to find his wife, which now Azriel suspected was a normal occurrence, his breath had caught in his throat.

Her remember his shadows talking about this beautiful and soft female with a hard mind that was constantly calculating, but he didn't expect this. She was enchanting, her hair shining like the brightest star flowing over her shoulders in a stream of silver, deep blue flowers that complimented the flowing light blue fabric of her dress braided delicately into her hair. Not to mention the soft female curves of her body that the dress did wonders of showing off, though he expected the dress was picked for it being easy to move in, not for the revealing nature.

_She's terrified of the Daemati_, his shadows whispered to him. If that was her being terrified—she had to be a menace on the battlefield when she was angered. Her shoulders were back and her chin was high, not even letting it dip an inch in recognition of Rhysand's high status. But… her hands were shaking, the slightest bit, from where she held them folded in front of her stomach. He doubted that Rhys or Cassian knew about her fear because she was hiding it so well, keeping the scent of her fear close to her.

She was stalling as she stared Rhys down, a flicker of fear evident in her diamond eyes. Rhysand must be startling her. If this went on for one more second, he was prepared to jump in and say something—this wasn't the female he had learned of.

But before he had to, the slim form of Eva's female faerie servant slipped out of the door without making a sound, and Eva's shoulders slumped slightly at the reprieve she offered. She spoke of heading to the nearby village to get some spices before she hastily made her way through the gardens, heading westward towards the village he had mapped out weeks earlier.

She seemed to have more confidence after her friend left and she started down the stairs, speaking to Cassian and ignoring the High Lord altogether. The two of them went on as if they'd known each other for years before her attention shifted to Azriel, jumping over the High Lord once again. If she truly was afraid of Rhys, he couldn't blame her.

It took everything in him not to shrink from her full piercing gaze as she cleared the final step and landed on the gravel path, unbothered by the fact she was barefoot.

"Azriel," she said, bowing her head, her voice holding none of the fear that was evident in her still-shaking hands.

All he could say was, "Eva," and bow his head to her. She'd bowed her head to him when she didn't even to his High Lord. If she was anyone else, he would've been seething and scaring her into doing it.

She tilted her head as her eyes followed the shadows that danced around him, a shadow of a smile on her lips, and he watched her with fascination, waiting to see what she would say next. Her eyes kept glazing over and coming back at rapid speed, too quick for any normal fae to notice. She was holding back her shadows. He couldn't see or feel her shadows anywhere. Suddenly, he felt the pull of his shadows as they tried to rip free from his control and go towards her.

They were pulling so hard that he had to change all his focus on keeping them close to his body. A soft shadow wrapped around his ear—Nevalah's—and it whispered in her soft voice, _They won't stop, just let them go._

He contemplated for a moment, looking at her and searching her face for an answer. The confidence and surety he found glowing in her eyes made him let go, and he immediately regretted it.

They erupted from him and didn't waste any time to start towards her in a blizzard of darkness. She stumbled back, eyes wide as pure surprise bloomed on her delicate face. His brothers shifted into defensive positions as they searched Azriel's face to try and figure out what they were supposed to do. Attack, or wait.

The shadows engulfed her lithe form, making it impossible to see her through the cloud of night. Panic rose in his chest, making his heart beat faster and he faltered forward a step, his hand absently reaching out to her.

His shadows spoke of her every curve and intimate spot. He tried to ignore it, but it was so overpowering that he couldn't.

It felt like hours passed before their voices finally stopped and his shadows cleared away, falling back to hover around Azriel, revealing her wreathed in her own shadows. At the raised eyebrows from Rhys and Cassian, they still didn't know she was a Shadowsinger, they thought his shadows were just attracted to her.

She looked up at Azriel, a mirthful smile plastered to her plump lips, her shadows fading away to nothing as if they'd never been there in the first place.

"That was… interesting." She was breathless but the joyful lilt in her voice was unmistakable as she cast her eyes on the High Lord, none of the fear in her eyes that was there moments before, as if his shadows had fueled her.

"Welcome to my home, High Lord." She said, the blissfulness of her grin drifting to a polite smile as she gestured behind her to the manor she called home, the thin blue sheets of her sleeves fluttering in the warm and welcoming Summer breeze from where they fell from above her elbows where a silver band secured the rest of the sheer material. "One more rule," she continued, her tone turning somber and the smile was wiped from her face as she folded her hands in front of her stomach, "no Daemati magic. And don't think I won't know if you use it. I have my ways."

A whisper of a shadow swirled over her face. It was there, then it wasn't. He couldn't even pin it as one of her shadows or simply a play of the light.

He didn't doubt she had that sort of power—if it was her shadows that would sense the prodding force of Rhys's Daemati power or if she had some other sort of magic to detect it. Either way, he knew to take her words seriously and never second-guess her actions because so far she was so unpredictable not even his shadows could calculate her next move.

Especially when she said to the High Lord, her voice holding no amusement, "Don't worry, we're far enough from the capital that the blood rubies Tarquin has on you won't matter one bit. If he does come searching randomly, I'm sure I could have some information to sweeten the deal so that he doesn't murder you here and ruin my expensive rugs."

Right, she was a spy and assassin and she had the mind to make sure they knew the true danger she possessed.

"I'm sure there is something I can offer you to keep that upsetting future becoming true," Rhysand said, taking a swaggering step forward. A light and bubbly laugh flowed out of her lips, leaving a bright smile on her lips as if he had just told the funniest joke.

Despite himself, despite everything he stood for, Azriel's every sense was honing in on her slim and fit form that moved with such a primal grace and trained movements as she turned towards her home and started down the path. He had to wonder if she was trying to catch their eyes and distract them. If she was, he couldn't blame her. With that perfect body, he was surprised she wasn't wearing something even more revealing.

Stopping one step up the stairs, she paused and looked over her shoulder at the three of them, arching a silver brow. "Don't tell me you're afraid of me. All I've given were empty threats, you don't even know if they will hold any weight."

Azriel took the first step towards her, his step steady in a way that his mind wasn't, and her eyes flickered with recognition as they landed on him before she looked between the High Lord and Cassian, waiting for them to follow. After all of them exchanged a look, a silent order in Rhysand's eyes, he started moving, quickly catching up to walk silently at her side as they went the rest of the way up the stairs where he pushed the door open for her.

It was true, all she'd given were empty threats, but he knew better than to take her words as anything but the truth. Maybe that was him overestimating her, maybe that was him holding hope that she was strong-willed and able to stand against the strongest Illyrians ever and not fall to her knees or quake at their presence.

She was a Shadowsinger and that said something about her will. She had to go through some horrible shit to be able to harness the darkness that had surrounded her and ate at her very soul. She had conquered that darkness and learned to use it to her advantage. The fact that she not only survived with that darkness but thrived and made a career out of it… that girl deserved more. She deserved a whole damned Court.

* * *

The inside of Eva's manor was as extravagant as the House of Wind or the Court of Nightmares home. Everything was coated or made purely out of gold, even the candles, for Mother's sake. This girl had to made out of money if she could afford such simple fancies.

She made up for all the low-key bragging with the blooming plants lining the halls. The size and types varied, but they were all beautiful and well-tended to. He knew Eva was the one in charge of that, especially as she carefully ran a finger along the leaves of them as she walked past, delicately enough it was almost as if she didn't.

Even though Azriel had searched her estate moments earlier, he hadn't been able to enter certain rooms, like the library (or what he thought was the library), and a few sleeping chambers. He didn't push her on it, because she had let him in and that was more than she'd done last time they met. Or spoke.

From where Eva walked in front of both Azriel and himself, she gave a smile to Rhysand, one that showed she had been trained in the ways of court intrigue. Her eyes kept drifting around the hall, surveying for what, he didn't know. Invisible shadows crawled up and down her body, barely visible to even a fellow Shadowsinger. They were like a twist of smoke far in the sky, so he could only see them if he truly focused. But he chose not to look too closely, for the only reason that they stayed around her waist and he didn't want his brothers getting any ideas.

One of the wisps snaked up to her ear and she faltered a step, that grace fleeting her, her skirts went going while she stalled. Rhysand reached a hand out to her but it wasn't needed because she spun to face Azriel, her eyes dilated as she started to wring her hands in front of her stomach, the diamonds set in her rings sparkling in the light. While there was no smell of fear coming off of her, he could tell she was terrified.

"What do you need?" he asked—his first reaction. He didn't care about the curious look he got from both Cassian and Rhys, he only cared that Eva's shadows had told her something so grave that it had shook her to her very core.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and her hands dropped to her side, her eyes changing to have some sort of predatory gleam that he had seen in so many people before they went on a killing spree. They all braced themselves, shifting into defensive positions.

The wisps of shadow around her darkened as they became visible and Rhys looked to Azriel, he gave a slight shake of his head: they weren't his shadows. His brothers' eyes widened slightly as they looked at her, seeing the true power she holds.

Her command to the mass of darkness was vocalized as she said, "Search the grounds, set up a hard line, let nothing through. Not even Maria." Just like that, the shadows exploded from her body in a steady stream, weaving through the corridors and under the doorways as they searched and scrambled to carry out her orders.

Power oozed off of her as a killing calm set in, her eyes growing distant as she looked to Azriel, her posture straightening, if that was even possible. He tensed under the complete power and command in her gaze. "Check the forest between here and the village. There's only one person that can block my shadows and he's one hell of a bastard. If you find him, remember the spot, then run like hell because he _will not hesitate_."

He nodded, swallowed up by shadows before Rhysand cold vocalize the argument that was sure to come. Whoever this "he" was, Azriel was glad to be here to help, even if it meant putting himself in danger.


	10. Chapter Ten

Nevalah's blood was pounding in her ears and all she could see was red as she hurried down the halls, her steps silent on the marble, not hearing or caring about the High Lord and general trailing after her, shouting questions about who she sent Azriel after, saying that she wasn't allowed to order around the Spymaster of the Night Court.

First off, she hadn't ordered him, he'd asked to help and she only told him how he could. If he wanted to, she would have gladly escorted him off of her estate. Secondly, she had a much angrier male that she would have to deal with very soon, if what her shadows said were true about the fiery-haired male storming down the halls.

Portraits of strangers and paintings of wide horizons she had never seen flashed past her in a blur of color. Shadows darted to and fro in front of her, fading in and out of her vision as they searched through the house, haste prioritized over stealth. They whispered quick reports in her ear about the movement of Onyx and how Azriel kept popping in and out of the hard lines her shadows were being held behind.

Before she could be confronted by Onyx, his heavy footsteps already sounding off of the walls, the High Lord reached out and gripped her arm and she spun to him with the lost momentum. She'd let him grab her, because Mother, having two hulking males chase after her was riding on her already frayed nerves.

She stared at him, forcing her face blank as she stared into those depthless blue eyes that were so deep in color they looked violet. A sprang of fear burst through her, raising her heart rate, only her intensive training keeping her muscles from seizing and her knees buckling in fear.

"Who did you send Azriel after?" he said, his voice low and commanding in a way that would've sent anyone less than her running. She reached into her mind to make sure her mental shields were still in place.

"Corban Albass," she said, her voice steady. At his look of confusion, she added, "The bastard Daemati who gave me these shadows."

A wisp of a shadow snapped around her head at her will in a show of her power before it returned to its work, following and reporting on Nyx. His tight grip on her bicep faltered and his eyes widened the slightest bit, understanding and pity flashing in his eyes, and she saw the male that was underneath his mask of sensual power. He took a respectful step back, understanding that he was her worst nightmare, that he had the power that had darkened her soul to the point where she had to control the darkness for it to release its deadly talons.

She gained instant respect for him on the pure reason that he cared about her past and emotions even though they'd just met.

Azriel faded in from a mass of shadow to stand beside his High Lord, a cold and dark wisp curling around all of their ears and whispered, _There's a block of area that I can't enter, and nor can my shadows. It's a more concentrated area than where Eva's shadows are being held at bay_

The cool curl of shadow stayed hovering around her ear while the other ones fell away. Azriel's voice came through, clear and calm, _My shadows couldn't find a trace of Maria._

The reality of it set into her bones and her hand twitched towards a weapon at her thigh that wasn't there. She summoned a dagger in her hand and all their eyes darted to it though they didn't do anything further than that. The cold engraved leather sent a pulse of coolness through her body, grounding her so that she didn't settle into that dangerous darkness that kept calling to her, to _let her kill. _

Her eyes drifted to Cassian as she slid the dagger into the dark leather band around her thigh. He watched from where he stood a step behind his High Lord, his shoulders pushed back, his chin lifted proudly, and his hazel eyes burning with determined anger.

_He will fight for you, Master,_ her shadows whispered to her and despite the roaring fire in her blood, her lips lifted into a smile. Before anyone could say anything, Onyx came careening around the corner and Nevalah spun to him, the light material of her dress hissing as it moved with her.

His red hair looked as if it were a living flame on his head fluttering behind him, his complete and utter rage fueling it as well as his near-glowing golden eyes.

"I will _kill_ you," he seethed, staring right at Nevalah, his eyes growing distant as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

"There's a protocol, Onyx. You can't just throw it out the window as soon as something truly happens." She said, starting forward down the hall, her steps silent as she summoned daggers of varying lengths and ages, some blades dull, some of them shining to the point where she could see her stoic expression and strapped them to her body where halters and sheaths waited. She was always prepared. She could never know when something like this could happen and everything went to shit.

The High Lord, General, and Spymaster walked a couple of steps behind her, giving her and Onyx space to deal with whatever it was they were dealing with, their steps silent.

"To Hell with protocol! My wife could be being tortured for all I know!" he shouted as she approached him, his legs spreading in a defensive position. She could see that he was ready to fight, to tear down a whole army to get to his wife and save her. But she knew, pure rage and dedication wouldn't do anything if he wasn't truly prepared to kill and do whatever possible to save her. And she knew this would test even her limits, he was nowhere near prepared to go with her.

Nevalah's skirts hissed and sighed as they floated around her slight form, a stray shadow winding through the sheer material. She walked up to him, going so close that their bodies were almost touching as she stared into those glowing eyes.

"You have a brain, use it," she said, willing her voice to stay steady as Onyx started to shake with that unyielding anger, his lips pressing into a thin, white line. He clenched his fists at his side and raised his chin, unwilling to stand down.

She could see his face go blank with thought, the glow in his hair and eyes dimming as some of the white anger settled.

Finally, with a low breath streaming out of his lips, he stepped back a respectable distance, his lips pulled back in a snarl to show those slightly elongated canines. His snarl changed to be a simple lift of the lips, an amused smirk, as his eyes landed on the High Lord behind Nevalah.

"Nice wings," he said, a half-laugh going along with the words, then added, "High Lord," before he turned and left down the hall, the trail of his coat following in a stream behind him. His steps were long and steady, showing a steady state of mind that he didn't have.

Nevalah looked over her shoulder at the High Lord, his dark groomed eyebrows raised toward his hairline, a bemused look set on his face. Her sparkling diamond eyes drifted to the space above his back, a short reprieve of joy lighting up her eyes, where his wings would've been if they weren't hidden by some sort of glamour or disguise-type magic.

Of course, she'd known he was half-Illyrian, she'd known since the day he was born from a High Fae father and a young Illyrian female that he was one.

"He can see things others can't," she said as an explanation, and with half a thought, her shadows shot up from the ground and engulfed them, the caress of her shadows reassuring and haunting as they pulled the four of them through the plains of time and place, dropping them at the wall of magic that held them back.

The shadows reached out as if in anger to the wall and attacked it, crawling up and reaching far through the canopies of leaves, clawing and pushing to get through, but failing quickly, falling back to hover around their master. It was as far as they could go.

The normal trill and fluttering of birds were now absent, setting an eerie silence over the forest. Warm light filtered through the canopy of leaves, sprouting from the towering oaks surrounding the four of them. As Nevalah looked over to the blinking Illyrians, she felt some pity for them in their thick leathers and expensive suits. It was warm for her, being used to the Summer climate.

She could see an argument rising in the general's throat at the sudden transport, but it quickly died away when she gave them a look that on the battlefield meant "shut your fat mouth because it may get you killed." It always worked no matter who she was talking to, warrior or common folk.

A shadow curled around her ear while others continued to stumble up the invisible wall of magic. It whispered, its voice cold and malicious, _See, he can still control you, even five-hundred years later._ It quickly switched over, the voice changing to be calm and informative, the actual message, _The Lord of Night is shocked you brought him, but okay with it. The General is thankful, the Shadowsinger is unreadable, his shadows are blocking us._

Fear crawled along her bones, the dark whispers of her shadows came louder in her ears as they darkened around her shoulders and waist. They pulled up memories she had long since hidden away, the screaming of her younger sister, the shouting of her father as he tried to rationalize and cope with what Nevalah was doing. Her heart rate quickened. A limp female body dressed in layers of expensive silk and chiffon lying in a pool of their blood, a hand that wasn't her own holding a dagger over a cowering figure dressed in a threadbare dress.

She flinched as a rough, scarred and calloused hand grabbed onto her arm, giving it a tight and reassuring squeeze, dragging her out of the memories. The shadows that were swarming her started to retreat and lessen around her form, her shaking dissipating.

After taking a slow and steadying breath of the fresh warm air that kept pulling her back into reality, she lifted her eyes to see who was touching her—Azriel.

As she made eye-contact with those kind hazel eyes, everything seemed to settle deep in her bones, like everything was just right.

_He was worried about you. You were spiraling and you were so covered in shadows he could hardly see you. He thought he lost you to their taunting whispers. Then he pa—_ She slammed down on them, sending her shadows away to patrol the forest.

She didn't want reports on him, it felt too personal. He wasn't just some visitor or warrior that could attack her at any moment, he was Azriel. And for some reason, that's all she needed to know he was good, to know that he could never do any harm to her or her family. It was a strange feeling, that comfort and safety.

She gestured with her head in the way that leads deeper into the forest, her hair sliding over her bare shoulder, past the wall blocking her shadows. Maybe being separated from her shadows for a while wouldn't be so bad. It would give her a chance to use more of her assassin training.

With a nod from Azriel, his black hair sliding over his forehead, she looked past him at the two winged warriors, the High Lord having let his large membrane-y wings out. Both of them nodded, letting her take the lead. She was the one who knew the forest, it only made sense.

Taking a step further into the forest, her barefoot easily jumping over a small twig, she braced herself for the loss of her shadows. No matter how much she hated them, they were damned handy and in a way, they were as much a part of her as her beating heart was.

The next step, and she was carried through the wall, her shadows snapping at it and working to get through to hover around their master. She felt their absence heavy on her shoulders. There was no small curl of shadow to command, no darkness rising to meet her orders. It felt as if she had been stripped bare.

But… they weren't taunting her, either. They weren't reminding her of her deepest regrets and darkest memories, replaying them in their cold and sickly voices. It gave her time to focus, gave her brain room to hone in on that anger working its way through her blood and gave her the senses to shape it into a deadly weapon.

She would get back Maria, no matter the consequences.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Mother, he thought Nevalah looked graceful before, but now… She was moving with such easiness as she weaved through the thick trees, it was as if she were dancing over the warm ground, her steps sure and silent as she tied back her shining white hair with a piece of black ribbon she'd summoned, not faltering a step. She looked like she belonged to the forest, as if it was her true home and having to live anywhere else was just caging her.

Azriel had nearly forgotten that she wasn't just a Shadowsinger or an experienced warrior, but that she was an assassin, trained to act as a dagger in the night without restraint or law and completely disappear from sight no matter the environment, no matter how dangerous. She had to have been an assassin long before she was a Shadowsinger because without her shadows her pure skill was still so high it was putting even Azriel's to shame.

He could hardly keep track of her as she dodged and swerved, tucking her scent close to her body with the help of her magic, especially as she started winnowing up onto tree branches and jumping from tree to tree, the branches hardly shaking under her light weight.

There was no obvious reason as to why she would need a high-up look on the leaf and twig covered forest floor, but she had a reason, that much was obvious with the way her darkened eyes kept scanning the ground and walls of trees around her.

Her eyes kept such darkness in it that it fueled Azriel's shadows, making them darker from where they circled his shoulders and head.

Nevalah jumped from a thick tree branch to another one, light blue skirts billowing behind her in a stream of gossamer, looking down at the ground in front of her, past the wall that his shadows were being held behind, a curious tilt of her head and lifting her lips that he could tell were full of fear that he knew all too well. She was terrified but didn't want to let it consume her.

She clicked her tongue, the sound causing Azriel to flinch slightly as it was swallowed up by the greenery around them. She had been so quiet that any sound coming out of her was a huge startle that sent a rush of adrenaline through him.

He looked over his shoulder at his brothers to see Cassian looking up at Eva with raised eyebrows, confusion and curiosity in his eyes, and Rhysand was looking at the invisible wall, his eyebrows knitted together. He noticed Azriel's shadows and told him mind-to-mind, through the sliver of the mental shield Azriel had left open in case his High Lord needed to speak to him, _There's a ward—or an illusion, _something._ And I can't get through it quite yet, there are too many layers of too different things. The same with the other barrier._

Azriel looked back in time to see Eva jumping down from the tree branch in an easy and swift movement, a soft wind cushioning her fall, not trying to silence her smooth landing on the ground, twigs breaking beneath her feet. He was confused and a bit shocked, but she knew what she was doing, that much was obvious, so he just waited, prepared to jump in if needed.

She spread her arms out, the light layers of her sleeves rustling in the warm breeze, "Come on!" Her voice was so clear and loud, a hint of playful intent in them, so contrary to the gentle commanding presence she had before. In reminded him of his High Lady, in a way. She crossed her arms across her chest, both of her hands within reaching distance of a dagger. "Disappearing cottage. I'm not an idiot, Corban! I remember the layout of my local forest."

The hard air that was a barrier started to warp and shift as if it were steam. Azriel shifted into a fighting stance, sending his shadows to protect Eva even though she seemed prepared, her muscles tensing and her hand twitching towards a dagger.

Soon the illusion fell away to show a small cottage in a clearing that seconds before was only towering oak trees.

It was made of worn wood, the show of decades, maybe centuries, of brutal weather wearing down the small home. The windows were glass-less and kept wide open, giving full view to the dusty and used insides, white sheets were thrown over couches and chairs and paintings, half-burned candle sticks laying askew beside empty beer bottles. By the look of it, it was a miracle it was even standing. It looked as if a small breeze could topple it. Though none of that was important, not when he saw the male sitting on the porch.

He was lounging on an old rocking chair that creaked with every slow movement, one of his legs crossed over his knee, a long finger tapping on the aged wood arm-rest, an air of sensual danger around him. Sort of like Rhys. A mess of brown hair lay on his head in a mess of curls, a feral smile on his lips as he looked at Nevalah, his eyes shaded by his hair.

He lifted his chin and his hair slid aside to show his honey-brown eyes, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked down at the lithe female. The look sparked some sort of instinct Azriel didn't know he had, roaring to protect the female in front of him.

He pushed it down—she could take care of herself. He knew that, even as her hand spasmed and she started to shake. That bastard had to be Corban.

"What do you want me to give you in exchange for Maria?" she asked, her voice surprisingly even. She shifted her weight, a carefully planned movement that she used to spread her legs in a defensive stance that all of them were falling into as they watched the situation unfold.

"You brought some powerful Fae with you," he said, his voice as smooth as silk, a slight accent clipping his words. He stood up in a languid movement as he straightened the cuffs of his loose white undershirt that was opened wide to show most of his bare chest.

Nevalah lifted her chin, her shoulders pushing back as she took a slow and settling breath. He could smell her fear. Mother, he could smell her fear, she had to petrified. "I asked you a question," she said, her voice holding a rare quiver, ignoring what he said so simply it was hard to believe she was so scared.

Corban clicked his tongue, taking a step down the stairs, the old wood grunting under his weight. "You have gotten smarter, Miss Ella."

She flinched, a shudder running through her. Azriel took a step forward, the fallen leaves crunching under his foot, unable to control the absolute anger that rolled through him at the sight. If he could, he would rip apart the male right here, right now.

Corban's eyes shot to him, and the only thing that kept him from attacking was the ghost of a shadow that snaked up Nevalah's back, curling carefully through the material, before it disappeared. Rhys had gotten through the barriers and she had her shadows back. She was better armed.

He could see the new confidence filling her as she stared Corban down and repeated, "What do you want me to give you in exchange for Maria?"

His eyes shifted back to her and he smiled, a disgustingly feral action. "Amarantha's Spellbook."

Shit, she had that? Everything stilled as she cocked her head, the smell of fear falling away from her as the near-invisible wisps of shadows curled and twirled around her.

Azriel could feel Rhys stiffening behind him and knew that if she indeed had the Spellbook, he would jump in and take control of the situation, taking the book for himself so that no one else could get their filthy hands on it and destroy Prythian or hurt anyone in it.

"I'm afraid I don't have it," she said and Azriel had the mind to keep in his sigh of relief. "Though I do know where it might be."

The second barrier was shattered and Azriel's shadows were able to go through the clearing just as Corban opened his fat mouth to speak, his voice riding and his every nerve. "Oh, where might it be?"

_He's surprised she gave in so easily, he must've got the right captive and played all the right cards. If only the idiot Night Court folk weren't there, then he would've finished her off and taken all her information and whatever spellbooks she had so that he could hand them over to Hybern and save his ass from being killed._

He was an absolute coward and he intended on _killing_ Nevalah. Not to mention the fact that was allied with Hybern. That _bastard—_

Before Azriel could take even one step forward, he was swept up by a wave of warm and comforting shadows that pulled him through time and space before planting him in the glittering foyer on Eva's manor.

The first thing he noticed was the stacks upon stacks of crates and trunks, all varying in age and all overflowing with clothed and jewels and coins, a small fortune, Onyx standing over them, pushing all his weight down on a lid of one to clamp it shut. He wore a heavy dark blue wool coat, thick black pants, and fur-lined boots, and on top of all that, a heavy gray cloak that was also coated with thick, white fur. He had to be sweating under all that.

He spun, cloak spinning around him, his eyes wide as they landed on his wife from where she was laying limp in Nevalah's arms, her head lolling against Eva's shoulder.

Onyx was instantly on her, lifting the small faerie into his arms as if she weighed nothing, pulling her close to his chest, and brought her to the center of the room where he dropped to his knees in a rustle of fabric, Maria cradled in his arms as he rocked her, whispering something to her so low that Azriel couldn't hear it.

Eva was already charging down the hall toward the library, the skirts of her dress floating behind her in a stream of silk and gossamer, looking over her shoulder at Rhys, her silver hair once again loose on her shoulders. "I'll return in a moment, and if you don't mind, search Maria's mind to make sure that repulsive example of a male didn't sink his claws into it. If you need, wake her up and ask for consent, but she will be all right with it."

Rhysand was instantly stepping toward Maria and Onyx, looking to the faerie male for permission to come closer. And although his lips were lifted in a snarl, he nodded and looked down to his wife, wiping loose strands of blue hair out of her face. As Rhys got closer to them, Onyx tensed, his eyes not leaving the Daemati.

Azriel took another glance around the foyer, at the large crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the vaulted ceiling, to the mural that surrounded it, depiction the creation of the world, and then the trunks littering the sparkling marble floor, and something dawned on him: they were fleeing, to Winter, if the clothes had anything to say about it. She'd spoken about a protocol, this had to be it.

It was no longer safe for them to live here.

* * *

If you have any questions about my oc's, like headcannons, or my writing process, or anything, ask! I will be answering them at the end of each chapter as long as they keep coming.

I am truly, truly thankful for every single one of you that cares to read my writing. It brings me so much joy that I would otherwise not have. I hope all of you have a lovely day 3


	12. Chapter Twelve

She didn't know it would happen so quickly and she didn't expect it to be so jarring. She thought she had time and didn't think her whole life could be uprooted in a matter of seconds, but she knew she couldn't risk staying in Summer, not when Corban had found her, not when he was pushing and attacking the hard wall of shadows she had put up around the estate. It was tugging on her chest and mind as she carefully wound wards through her shadows to further fortify her home.

With the way her shadows kept wavering and shifting, they would last for only ten minutes, maybe fifteen if she really focused on keeping the wards in place, but with the idea of a Daemati searching through Maria's mind, she could hardly focus on anything but that.

Decades earlier, Maria had told Nevalah that should Corban take control of her mind, that she had full reign to do whatever it took to make sure that he didn't stay there or caused any harm through her body. That meant she even consented to Eva killing her, if it was the only way out, though she would never let it get that bad.

And if it did, she wouldn't rest until Corban was dead and his corpse was up in flames and she would revel in it, drinking and dancing until his body was nothing but ashes on the wind, and a while after it.

She cast a look around the hallway, a hollowed-out feeling filling her chest as she looked at all the plants she had so carefully tended to, most of them centuries old and still thriving. Their leaves were rich and green, their flowers bright and in full bloom. It would take a decade alone to research plants that would survive the brutal climate of Winter, and decades longer to grow some semblance of the vibrant and full gardens she had here.

But it couldn't be too bad, she knew she had a place at Kallias' court and could become one of his most trusted advisers if she truly wished. Maybe he would help protect her and her family if she pitched in and offered him help for free.

Eva looked around the hall, taking a slow deep breath to stop her hands from shaking. She didn't notice she was shaking, or how bad it truly was.

When she had seen Corban… She couldn't explain the gut-wrenching fear and anger that had coursed through her. She'd been paralyzed and was hardly able to take in a full breath, switching between wanting to chop his head off and stick it on a spike, and wanting to turn around and flee, no matter how much of a coward that made her. The fact that he'd affected her this much almost as terrifying as the actual fear was.

She turned into the library, the large engraved doors opening on a phantom wind, the hinges creaking with the weight. Her eyes caught on the different engravings: a dolphin as it leaped out of a crashing wave, gulls flying over a beach, a grand sunset, or sunrise, in the background. It had to be millenniums old.

As she stepped into the grand room, she took a deep breath, savoring the smell of old paper and leather and ink. She remembered the years upon years she'd spent in this very room, hunched over that sturdy desk sitting right under the large window, golden light streaming through it. She would write and write and write for days on end, reporting on her latest assignment, editing and rewriting some of the oldest books, the ones that predated the War.

She sighed loudly, letting the sound echo off of the tall ceilings.

This would be the last time she ever entered the library, and it made her heart skip a beat and her breath come a bit more rapidly. She looked around and some books around her started to flicker into oblivion as her magic reached out and pulled them into a pocket of magic, storing them.

Each book dragged away by magic added to the weight on her shoulders and soul, her magic struggling to keep up with the weight of it all. Her heart strained at every book that disappeared, every bit of history.

The trunks that were in the sparkling foyer could be transported easily with her shadows—so she was good on that end because her shadows never became exhausted or strained. She just had to make sure she got ever last book that held information, they had too much that could be used as blackmail or used to tear down a whole Court that she couldn't leave behind a simple one.

As her magic did its work swallowing up the books, she quickly undressed, throwing her daggers to the floor and summoning a pair of thick, black woolen pants. She slipped into them easily, pulling a loose white cotton undershirt on and tucking them into the hem of the pants.

Her magic kept working, slowly plucking away the books with tiny phantom hands. The next thing she summoned was a thick wool coat, pulling deep inside herself to muster the strength and magic, that was much like Onyx's, though the cut reached down to sit just above her waist, the back panels falling like a cape down to the back of her knees.

She buttoned the front up with simple clasps of real silver and slipped into fur-lined black leather boots.

As soon as she saw that all the books on the main floor were gone, swallowed up by her magic, she started to pull her hair back in a tight plait with pale and shaky hands, the result of using her magic to its limit.

She took a rattling breath, her lungs aching from the tax her magic was taking on her body. Even her magic had its limits.

Looking at the empty shelves, a dark and caving hole yawned open her chest. This was her home, and it was her only solace in this cold and disastrous world and she knew that even if she tried to stay, she would be pushed out almost immediately, Corban was too hard-headed to do anything else. Her home was not the kind of manor made to hold up to a siege, especially not a magical one

She turned, the trail of her cloak rustling behind her, and she pushed the door open, letting it make the large booming sound she always tried to soften, the sound resonating through the halls and no doubt the whole home.

It sounded like a mourning call, the sound running along her bones and prickling her every sense.

Mother, it was hurting to even open the door, she was becoming that weak.

Nevalah started down the hallway, not caring to silence her steps as her boots thudded soundly against the marble, the sound echoing through the hall, the warmth of the day suddenly suffocating in all the layers of the well-knitted wool she was wearing. She started to pull her tightly braided silver into a crown on top of her head, securing it with sturdy steel pins she'd summoned moments before when her magic was still at its best.

Thoughts flew through her mind as she cast fleeting glances around her, raising her heartbeat: She hadn't checked the cottage she had in Winter in over three centuries, and for all she knew, it could be in shambles by now or someone else was living in it and had made it their home.

She didn't let herself dwell on that fact and took a deep breath, finding something else to distract her mind with. She could deal with all that tomorrow after her magic has refilled and after she knew that her family was safe and cared for. She had connections with the Winter Lord anyway, so she knew everything would work out no matter what, even if the cottage was inhabitable.

She made it to the foyer, the large crates and trunks slowly disappearing as her shadows swirled around them, swallowing them up as if they weighed nothing as if they were simply air. The remaining shadows that didn't have any task assigned to them were heavy against her body, dancing and swirling along her delicate skin, curving around her small waist and swishing under the tail of her coat to make it flutter behind her with every stride, her grip on them loosening as she had to focus more on keeping her half-assed wards in place.

It had been a century since she had to put up any ward, let alone one that was supposed to be so powerful, her shadows normally volunteered to do it themselves. They normally worked better than wards did anyway, but in this case, that wasn't an option. Corban already knew how to scatter and startle them, send them back to their master with their tails between their legs.

She looked over to the three Illyrians where they stood by the closed front doors, sunlight spilling through the fogged glass, their eyebrows slightly raised and their all-seeing eyes watching her every movement as if she were their greatest enemy, and immediately dismissed them, looking to Onyx and Maria from where they still sat on the floor in a pool of silk and wool.

"Get Maria changed, we don't have much time left," she said, her voice cold and flat, she didn't even try to hide her exhaustion. Onyx was on his feet, the material of his cloak hanging behind him in a ripple of fabric, helping the half-conscious Maria to her feet, putting all of his attention on his precious wife and not even looking over his shoulder at Eva as he walked up the far stairs, taking a fumbling Maria with him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she mumbled something so low that no one other than Nyx could hear it.

Eva shifted her focus to the High Lord, not afraid of his impervious gaze, or not afraid as she had been, his chin lifted and his shoulders back, though concern shone in his ethereal eyes, and started toward him, swaying slightly on her feet despite her will not to. She could see how pale her hands had become as they folded in front of her buttoned bodice, and feel how weak her muscles and bones were becoming with every step and breath. It was only a small sacrifice for keeping her family safe and alive.

"Are you okay?" the High Lord asked, raising a dark eyebrow as she approached him. She was shaking ever-so-slight, but not because of her fear of the High Lord.

She shrugged, staring right back at those fearless eyes, lifting her chin. Unsure of the answer herself, she came up with some courtly answer, "Just overused my magic, once I make it to Winter I will be fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked, that concern in his eyes flaring as if he were some overbearing parent, "Azriel or I could winnow you if you need."

She shook her head slightly, her silver hair staying where it was pinned down atop her head, and looked over her shoulder at the slowly disappearing trunks. "My shadows got that,"

She looked back to the High Lord and waited for him to say something, not confident enough to come up with some sort of court-trained response. He nodded apprehensively, his dark mass of hair shifting on his head, obviously not saying anything else. Seeing that, her eyes drifted to Azriel, as if he were a magnet to her attention. His hazel eyes were full of such a quiet worry as he looked at her that it made her chest tighten. No one had ever looked at her like that, with that much care and concern.

As if snapping out of a trance, Azriel blinked quickly, that shine in his eyes disappearing in an instant, the shadows hugging his shoulders and swarming around his head fell away until they were a near-invisible wisp of shadow that only a fellow Shadowsinger could see. His voice was cool and even as he asked, "Where are you going to stay in Winter?"

The words fell out of her lips, unable to keep them inside, "I have a good connection with Kallias, so I will see if I can stay with him for the night. Right now, I just need to get out of here before Corban figures out how to get through the wards I set up."

Instantly, part of that heavy and demanding weight on her soul that was used to keep the ward up lifted as the High Lord jumped in to support the wards and add some of his own. She offered him a smile full of what she hoped was gratitude as she looked back at him. Before anyone could say anything else, wanting to finish up this interaction, she reached into her almost-empty well of magic and pulled out nine old leather-bound books, the absence of it lightening the aching pull of the lack of magic, pushing the large stack into High Lord's arms. His eyes were wide as his instincts kicked in and held out his arm to hold the stack, his muscles stiffening.

Coolly, she explained, "One book on each of the living Hybern generals, one book on Hybern himself, one on his armies, and two on the wards and magic protecting the island and monarchy. Oh," She paused, trailing off, another thick leather-bound book came into her hands, the cover coated in ink that no matter how hard she tried she could get off, and added it to the stack, "and one book on the Cauldron and its power."

The High Lord blinked out of surprise, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on land as he tried, and failed, to come up with something to say. A bit of satisfaction filled her at the sight of surprising the most powerful Fae in all of Prythian, though she didn't let show. She continued, forcing her words to be calm and even, "I had to practically sell my soul for all of this, you better use it to keep Prythian safe."

When she turned and her boots scuffed on the floor out of her carelessness, effectively dismissing them, the general mumbled under his breath in barely a brush of air, "Shit," and she let a light and bubbling laugh fall out of her. She could hardly control her reactions anymore, her complete and utter focus on getting the Hell out of here was taking up most of her attention.

Maybe she was disoriented, maybe she was just going mad drunk off of the day's events, which was highly likely, but she turned to Azriel and a true smile found its place on her lips, the feeling oddly natural. "It was nice seeing you. Hopefully we can talk sometime soon." And at the happy surprise that lit up his eyes, she bowed her head and looked to the top of the stairs where Nyx and Maria stood.

Maria was now dressed in a floor-length gown made out of rich gray cotton, the material hugging her body perfectly, the edges and hems made out of a soft, white fur that also lined the inside of the gray-blue cloak that was lying over her shoulders. Her red eyes were on Eva, full of tears, some of them running down her cheeks before she adverted them to the hem of her dress.

At the sight of Onyx holding the small female tight to his chest, a dangerous and protective blankness on his face as he stared down the Illyrian males, she could do nothing as her shadows shot out, swirling through the ornate steel decorations on the railings and started reporting on Maria, _Embarrassment. He took the money from the bag, the whole small fortune of it. She blames herself for it. After all Mistress Eva gave her, she messed up and let someone steal from her._

Nevalah was moving across the marble floors to the stairs, and as she made the first step up the stairs, she reached her hand out and braced against the cold golden railing to keep her steady, finding the cold to be steadying in more ways than one. She continued up the stairs, every step heavy and painful, and met her two friends halfway up.

The skirts of Maria's gown hissed as it trailed behind her in a wake of weighty cotton in beautiful decorative layers. She brought a shaky and pale hand up to wipe away her tears as she bowed her head, her chin pushed up against her chest, the large sleeves of the dress swaying and billowing with the movement.

Eva leaned forward, her lips nearly brushing against Maria's rounded ear and whispered in such a hushed voice that not even Onyx could hear the words, "I have enough money to buy a whole Court, that bit in the bag is nothing."

Maria snorted at the truth of it, the sound as lady-like as it could be, her head lifted as a shadow of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Tears stopped forming in her eyes as she looked down at her mistress and dear friend.

"I guess you're right," Maria said, her voice soft but loud enough that the half-shadow versions of the Night Court Illyrians could hear.

Looking over her shoulder, the movement more tiring than it should've been, Eva could've sworn Azriel was smiling at her with a sort of admiration in his eyes. But as they were swallowed up by his cool-mist shadows, her own reached out and wrapped around her companions, their touch calm and gentle, bringing them through Summer, winding through the wards at the borders of Winter and Summer, then into the large winter gardens of the Winter Royal Castle.

As the cold air of dead winter started to nip at her nose and brush against the skin of her delicately pointed ears, Eva knew that she was no longer home in the safe and calm forested corner of Summer that she had called home for so long, and that she would no longer have a moment of rest knowing that Corban, her living nightmare, was alive and searching for Amarantha's Spellbook.

* * *

This chapter is over three-thousand words... I really got into it towards the end. If you're wondering, which you're probably not, the second half of the chapter was only about seven-hundred words in the rough draft then after I edited it and made it into what it is now, it changed to nearly two-thousand words. The process is quite... interesting, to say the least.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll be ready and excited to share another chapter as soon as possible. Thank you for reading, my Lords and Ladies.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Azriel sat at his desk, finger tapping on the hard wood, poring over reports from his spies, the papers covered in dirt and the writing quick and messy from haste to get everything down, reading over pages two, three times before he gleaned any sort information from them. A red-orange flame flickered and danced inside a glass ball at the corner of his dark cherry-wood desk, lighting up his work space and the worn bookcases to the left and right of him, full of old and dusty reports filed away for later reference, the pages yellow with age and use.

His eyes caught the flowing and dancing flame of the candle and stayed there, tracking its every hypnotizing movement as he zoned out, getting swallowed up by his thoughts as he always did this late at night.

Every so often, Azriel would just get thrown back into the memories of her; of how agile and skilled she was, not only in the way of battle but in the way she spoke and addressed them.

But most of all, it was nearly impossible to get his mind off of how deathly pale and ill Nevalah had looked months ago when he'd last seen her, standing proudly in the shining gold foyer of her grand manor that she cared so much for, a smile on her lips, that was now abandoned—he had sent a shadow there and it only spoke of wilting flowers and rotting food.

Her legs and arms had been trembling with exhaustion and it looked like she could hardly stand, that glittering and peaceful joy that had been in her captivating ocean-colored eyes had been dimmed, a heart-clenching nothingness replacing it. Yet she had still been strong and cordial as she handed over the books that they ultimately used to win the war, calm and decisive as she spoke to Rhysand about the contents of each of them, though her mind seemed to be stuck on something else. She'd been polite as she dismissed them, giving him that enchanting and gentle smile before she put all her attention on her crying friend, making her smile and her tears stop.

He hadn't dared to send any other shadows out to find her out of fear for what he would, or wouldn't, find, and he hadn't been contacted by her in any way. He hadn't even seen her on the battlefields three months ago when the war was in full swing and at its worst.

Sometimes he would wonder if she was still alive, or if the war or that bastard Corban had stolen her bright light of a life. When he thought that, normally a long, freezing flight in the peaks of the Illyrian Steppes or a nasty and rough fight in the mud with one of his brothers usually followed, just so that he didn't find the nearest bottle of alcohol and down it.

His family would ask him every family dinner, which was now once a week, why he was so distracted, asking what was pulling at most of his attention, and he would just ignore it, blaming it on one drink too much or a report he recently got. And in private, Cass would ask him why he wasn't looking at Mor the same way he used to. Then he would follow up by saying that it was healthy to move on, that it wasn't anything to be upset about, the fact that he wasn't in absolute love with Morrigan anymore.

At first, it had pissed him off that he could ever not love Mor and the kind and vibrant person she was and he'd let it eat him from the inside out for a good week or two, but then he realized that it was because he truly was falling in love with someone else.

He was falling in love with yet another person that couldn't ever possibly love him back. Nevalah was the definition of perfect, she was like an angel sent from the Mother herself, made to bless and grace this world with her peace and tranquility. She was a being that couldn't ever be worth someone like him, so beautiful and kind. To her, he probably wasn't even worth a passing glance. But she would spend hours with him if he wanted, that was just the type of person she was.

Just as he always did, his eyes drifted to the tall stack of worn leather-bound books on the corner of his desk. It was the only bit of her he had, and if she truly was dead, he wasn't going to get rid of it. And no matter how much he wished or wanted to move the books, he just couldn't. When he tried to pick them up, his hands would seize and he would have to step away. Besides, they had too much information to move to the library under the House of Wind.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he swore he saw a wisp of a shadow, and mistaking it for his own, he looked back down to the report in front of him, hoping that he could get some information out of it this time. But before he could get into it, the wisp of shadow returned and danced across the surface of his desk in front of him before it reached out and curled around his arm and up his shoulder.

He instantly knew whose it was at the gentle and warm caress it gave him. It left gooseflesh in its wake, the touch so light it felt like a brush of a gentle Summer breeze.

It didn't hit him fully for a couple of moments, that Eva was still alive, and that she had gotten through the wards set up around Velaris. Panic flooded him, but at a quick whispered report from one of his shadows had him realizing that she and her shadows had simply figured out how to worm through the many complex layers of the wards.

Then, it truly hit him, the realization burning through him like a chant, Nevalah was alive. She had survived the war and had the time to order her shadows to find a way through the extremely complicated wards. More importantly, her shadows had let him know they were here, and that had him smiling as the warm wisp of shadow faded out into nothing.

The thick wooden door to his office creaked as it was pushed open on intendedly loud hinges and Azriel looked up to find his brother, Cassian, standing in the doorway, a hand braced on the ornate bronze doorknob, his knuckles blackened from dirt. Azriel sighed, raising an eyebrow. He would have to clean that up later.

Cassian's dark fighting leathers were coated with a fine dusting of dirt and his comfortable leather boots were covered with dirt and mud and old, dead grass that he couldn't even shake from flying which was evident in his wind-mussed black hair hanging loosely at his shoulders.

A goofy smile was set on his face, full of smug amusement and triumph as he pushed into the room, his steps suddenly loud on the hard cool-red stone floor, leaving the door wide open to let the candlelight from the elegantly carved golden sconces in the hallway to stream into the room.

"I got to kick some ass today," Cassian announced and Azriel leaned back in his chair, the old wood groaning, crossing his arms in front of his chest, only the thin layer of his cotton undershirt between his arms and the tattooed skin of his chest, waiting for his brother to recount the events of his long day up at a quite unruly Illyrian camp.

Cassian's eyes searched Azriel's face before his smile faded, that amusement shifting into contemplation and camaraderie as he pulled a chair up in front of Azriel's desk and sat down, leaning his forearms against the dark wood of the desk, the sturdy wood grunting under the weight.

"What's the news, is your darling love visiting soon?" Cassian asked, his voice shifting with laughter, though his eyes still held that contemplative gleam to them. Azriel's eyebrows shot to his hairline, confusion lighting up his eyes. "C'mon, I've seen that look on many soldiers after they received a letter from their wife. What did the lady say?" After a second, he added, "Or male, I don't judge,"

Maybe it was because he was already three glasses of wine in, or because of the caring tone to his brother's words, but he made sure all of Eva's shadows were out of his office before he blurted out, "Eva, she's alive,"

After that, he couldn't stop telling Cassian all about her, about the way she was so kind and perfect and how no one could ever possibly compete with her. How no one could ever possibly stand on the same grounds as her, in smarts, or in beauty. He spoke about her non-stop, unable to hold back his complete awe of everything she does and everything she is.

When he finished speaking, his chest was heaving with his loss of breath from speaking so quickly. Looking up at the tall rocky ceilings of his office, he shook out his stiff arms and waited for Cassian to reply. Azriel looked back down and Cassian was tilting his head in thought, his hair now pulled up in a mess of a bun atop his head, a slow smile spreading across his lips, one that spoke of a plan that was surely brewing in his mind.

"Why not invite her for dinner or Starfall, that's coming up soon. She already knows Velaris is here, inviting her here wouldn't be that strange." He said and Azriel half-shrugged, the movement far stiffer than he'd expected. It would be nice to be able to spend time with Eva, especially during Starfall, when they could drink and hang out all night without any worry pressing on their shoulders.

"I don't even know if I want to tell Rhys that she got through the wards." Azriel said, pulling his mind down from the high of that perfect future.

"Why not?" Cassian asked, his voice more distant as he leaned back in his chair, creating space between them as if the words hurt him. As if he'd just betrayed everything he stood for.

"I don't know how he will react, and Eva is already terrified of him. I don't want to scare her off, especially if there's a chance she will begin to trust him." He said, standing up, his muscles aching with the stiffness of sitting at his desk for the whole day. He hadn't even eaten today. Cassian rose with him, his fighting leathers sounding with the movement, matching Azriel's every move as if he were the enemy.

"It's my duty—your duty—to report stuff like this!" He said, his voice hard and loud. "You know this, Az," he added, his voice changing to show a twinge of understanding.

He knew his duty, he knew that he was expected to report into Rhys and block out all her shadows, track her down, and bring her to the Court of Nightmares for questioning. That was protocol, that's what was drilled into his very soul, but he knew how Eva got into Velaris, he knew that she was someone in Winter, most likely at High Lord Kallias's court.

Cassian let out a quick sigh, raising an eyebrow. He was just beginning to understand how truly Azriel had fallen in love with this woman, how quickly and hard he had fallen for her, and how he cared for her.

Cassian cleared his throat, taking a step back towards the door, his boots sounding loudly on the floor. "I'll tell him. He doesn't even have to know that you were the one that told me."

Azriel was in Cassian's face, appearing there in a matter of a millisecond, their skin nearly touching as he stared into his brother's wide hazel eyes, their color so similar to his own.

"_Please_, Cassian," His voice cracked at a failed attempt to push down the sorrow and pain that was filling him at the idea of Eva being pushed out. He knew what it was like to be ignored and feared and pushed out, he wouldn't let it happen to her. He would get down and grovel on his knees if he had to.

Cassian's breaths shortened to match Azriel's, his eyes flicking between both his eyes as if he couldn't choose which one to look at, and stepped back to make some space between them. Clarity was flooding through Cassian's eyes, followed by uncertainty as the two parts of him fought against each other: being loyal to his High Lord, or his brother.

"If she sells the information about Velaris or attacks herself," Cassian said, struggling with every word he said, "it's your fault."

With another long look at Azriel, Cassian swallowed loudly and started out of the room, his boots pounding against the stone floor, pulling the heavy door closed behind him, the sound echoing through the room.

Azriel took in a shaking breath, squeezing his eyes closed, not daring to move an inch. He knew Cassian was being as kind about this whole situation as he possibly could, and he didn't blame him for his reactions, including leaving the consequences of letting Eva into Velaris to Azriel. And he was fine with that. If anything did happen, which he knew wouldn't, he would take full blame no matter what that entailed.

If she needed him to, he would lay down his life for her, no matter what his family thought of him.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Nevalah placed her gloved hand on the half-wall of stone in front of her, the ice-cold bitterness of the gray stones seeping through the thick leather and fur of her gloves. She tilted her head toward the bright mid-day sun peaking through the thin layer of clouds, the crystals pinned in her elegantly braided hair shimmering, the rare warmth of the sun kissing her tanned skin, bringing a soft smile to her pink-painted lips.

While she had the hair and love of snow that the rest of the Winter Court High Fae did, her skin still held the warmth and darkness of the Fae of the Summer Court, making her stand out amongst the others, as if it were unwilling to part with the sun that she had lived under for so long.

Her heart ached every moment of every day, mourning over the loss of her grand home that had meant so much to her, that she had decorated for herself and made home after everything in her life had been flipped upside down and she couldn't even trust the ground she was walking on.

Here, in this grand palace full of Ladies and Lords dressed in their finest silks and chiffons and furs felt like a second home, but she knew it wasn't where she belonged, for something kept tugging her further and further North.

Like her, Maria and Onyx had settled in at the Winter Lord's court quite easily, switching over their wardrobes and learning to bundle up further and walk with a sort of proud grace about them. Though, Eva could still see how awkward they felt, even without her shadows telling her.

Being in the court of a High Lord was intimidating for even Eva and she was a noble-born High Fae with centuries of court training and a strong skill-set in battle and spying, everything that someone in this position was expected to have. And they were lesser faeries, with only the basics of court intrigue that Eva had taught them over the centuries and no expertise in battle or smarts, though she was willing to argue on that point. They were both brilliant in mind and speech, though hardly anyone noticed due to their… "lesser value" as lesser faeries.

For the first month at court, High Fae had mistaken them for servants, handing them their empty wine glasses or telling them to fetch a carriage, and Eva had had enough and wasn't willing to put up with the hurt looks on her friend's faces every time it happened.

She dressed them in her finest velvets and largest diamonds and crystals and started opening their doors, curtsying whenever they approached her, referring to them as milady and milord, as if she were their servant. And if that didn't stop them, she would give them a death glare as they moved towards her, making a shadow swirl around her shoulder or along their spine, startling them and making them go as quickly in the other direction that their honor and pride allowed them.

After that, everyone learned quickly that her friends were not servants and instead started to speak to them like they were any other Lord or Lady in court.

She breathed in deeply, her chest pressing against the tightly done stays, the fresh air settling deep in her lungs.

That was another thing, here in the Winter Court, the fashion and clothes were much like what the mortals wore. Tight stays, heavy petticoats, and bumrolls to exaggerate the tiny waist the stays gave the females. Of course, there was a way to quickly switch into a more battle-ready attire, the Fae would have it no other way.

She cast one last look over the sprawling city in front of her, males and females wandered the snow-covered streets, talking and laughing, merchants shouted their ware, wooden wheels clattered over cobblestone, making a joyous chorus of city life.

Oh, how Eva loved cities, the way nothing was ever completely silent, how there was always more. Always more information to gather, more secrets to uncover, more bars to go to, more long nights of chatting to a stranger about absolutely nothing but still having the time of their lives. It was her dream—to live in a grand and lively city, never a dull moment.

She turned away from the bustle of the city and pushed open the heavy glass door of the balcony and started into a large and lavish parlor, the heavy layers of her skirts sighing as they scuffed up against the hard stones of the balcony floor. The warmth of the room surrounded her as if it were a shadow, welcoming her back inside.

A fire blazed on the far wall of the room, the flame dancing and twirling as a brush of frigid air swept in from outside. Maria was lounging on a brilliantly red couch, swirling golden designs crawling up along the back and legs of it. In front of the couch sat a dark-wood coffee-table piled high with buns and sweets of all different pastel colors.

Here, they were treated like royalty and Maria seemed to be enjoying it, a book in one hand, a buttered bun in the other, nibbling on it. Today, she was wearing a simple silky gray dress, loose and fluttering as it fell like a river down beside her to the floor, her legs bare from where they were crossed, taking up most of the couch.

This morning, she'd announced to her husband and Eva, along with the two servants that were bustling around their quaint dining room, pouring water and placing dishes of warm breakfast foods in front of them, that today she was doing nothing. Apparently, nothing meant lounging like a queen, indulging in sweets and books, ordering around one of the two servants that were assigned to their rooms.

Maria lowered the book in her lap as Eva pulled the balcony door closed softly, not making one sound.

"Why don't you join me? There's another couch," Maria said, gesturing with a lazy hand to the couch that sat across from her, covered in plush, decorative pillows.

"I have to work soon," Eva said, though she did sit down at the edge of the couch Maria was on and grabbed one of the fluffy buns of brioche, tearing off a piece and popping it in her mouth, savoring the sweet taste of it.

"Doing what?" she asked, no judgment in her voice, just pure curiosity as she nibbled at another piece of the bread.

"I'm going to the Night Court, my shadows told me today was a good day to make an appearance, though I don't know why." She said and Maria hummed, tilting her head. Curious, that girl was always curious.

But she wasn't lying. Earlier this morning when the sky was still dark, and she was relaxing in a steaming pool of water, a wisp of her shadows had curled around her ear and told her that she should simply pop up and say hi, that two weeks of lurking in dark allies had been too long. They had actually said that, and aside from the suspicious way they relayed the information, she'd laughed at how mischievous her shadows were acting.

Maybe they just wanted to play and be released for a bit, having been tightly reigned in since her arrival at the Winter Court months ago. The courtiers were already afraid of her, she couldn't imagine what them seeing her covered in shadows would do.

"Just don't get yourself killed," Maria said, genuine worry in her voice, replacing that joyful lilt.

Eva sighed quickly, standing up, the weight of the quilted under-skirt pulling down on her waist. She flattened the front of the dress where the under-skirt was showing, the misty gray a dark contrast to the light blue of the overcoat. She pulled down the light blue of the coat, the velvet material soft, the long tail of it acting as a second layer of the dress.

"When has that ever been an issue for me?" Eva said, a smirk lifting the corner of her lips. Maria huffed, sticking out her tongue as she pulled herself into a sitting position, setting the book down beside her on the couch.

"When are you going?" she asked, setting her half-eaten bun on the table in front of her. She bunched her skirts in one hand so that she could slip on the same colored silk slippers.

"Now?" Eva offered, raising an eyebrow. She didn't know when she was supposed to go today, and honestly, she was trying to avoid the inevitable that would be confronting the High Lord and his close retinue.

Maria opened her mouth to speak but Onyx appeared in the archway leading to the hallway and leaned up against the thick stone and said, "I'm going with you." Eva's eyebrows shot to her hairline. "I don't care what you say, but this is where I put my foot down. I'm not letting you walk into the heart of the Night Court and confront the most powerful Fae in all of Prythian in their home that they have kept secret for practically ever."

Eva blinked slowly, tilting her head ever-so-slightly as she looked at her friend, fine in his black suit. Maria looked at the two of them, obviously not wanting to get in between whatever was going to happen.

Shrugging, Eva held out her gloved hand. "Then come, we are going now."

Surprise flickered across Onyx's face, startling the normal stoic expression, but he quickly recovered and stepped forward, taking her hand in his.

She'd never agreed to him tagging along with her so easily, and even when she did it was with extreme restrictions, purely to keep him safe. But maybe she'd accepted because she was nervous, maybe she accepted because she truly did need him, or maybe she'd accepted because what he was saying was true.

This truly was the most stupid thing she had ever thought of doing. There was a time when she thought of buying her way into Helion's Court so that they could marry, she still flushed over the pure naivety in the plan. She doubted Helion would marry for any amount of money or knowledge.

"Have fun you two! I think I'm going to have a bath," Maria said, concern heavy in her voice, waving at the two as started walking out of the parlor and into the dim hallway, disappearing.

Onyx only had time to take in a deep breath before the two of them were whisked away into shadows as they were pulled through the Courts toward the invisible city of Velaris.

Eva was a wraith, another wisp of shadow as she swirled and danced along the edges of roads and along buildings, Onyx trailing after as she brought him with her. Her shadows lead her through the winding streets of Velaris they had told her so much about, lesser faeries and High Fae alike living in joy and peace. There was no hierarchy, no discrimination, just peacefulness.

Faeries laughed and smiled at each other as they held armfuls of bags from their shopping trips, no snide looks or hidden daggers. Soon, the longer she looked upon this city, she learned that Velaris was where she dreamed to live, where her friends could stand beside her as equals and be seen as nothing less than herself. That was her dream.

Color flashed in her vision, followed by darkness, followed by a clear view of the world as her shadows found a cool and shadowed place in an alley, looking out at a bustling street. Faeries passed, dressed in expensive silks and comfortable-looking cotton. Some walked with purpose, while others meandered pointlessly, looking down at the river, the Sidra, as it rushed past them, breathing in the intoxicating scent of the salty water.

Eva didn't know what she was looking for, that was until a cool-mist shadow crept up around her, or around the shadows she was hiding in, curiously weaving through the space. Then, her eyes caught the Inner Circle; the High Lord and his close friends.

They stood in a semi-circle by the Sidra, the High Lord and High Lady leaning up against the railing, warm smiles on their lips as they looked at each other, a sort of love and yearning in their eyes. They were mates, and now she could see how truly they had fallen into its grasps.

She recognized them as soon as she looked at them: Amren, the High Lord's Second, picking at her nails, looking completely uninterested in whatever her friends were talking about. Morrigan, High Lord Rhysand's Third, smiling, a calm joy in her sparkling brown eyes as she talked, making animated movements with her arms that caused the red gossamer of her dress to flutter. Cassian, the General, stood beside Morrigan, a bawdy smile on his lips that sent the High Lord and Lady laughing. And Azriel, standing proudly, his shoulders pushed back as he watched his family, a softness in his eyes and a quiet smile that made it nearly impossible for Eva to tear her eyes away from him.

Shadows perched on his shoulders, no doubt reporting on her.

Taking as much of a breath as she could in this shadow-form, she stepped out of the shadows into the warmth of the early spring day, the heat almost suffocating the heavy layers of her dress.

She took a step out of the alley, a few eyes wandering over to her and her strange Winter clothes, Onyx following so close after her that his black suede shoes brushed up against the wide hem of her dress.

She was five steps out of the shade of the alley when the High Lady looked in her direction, her smiling dimming, the High Lord's eyes following her gaze. Eva could see the way his eyes dimmed, the way his smile was wiped away, whatever else that was in his body erasing as he straightened, easily falling into a defensive position, taking a slight step in front of his mate as his wings flared defensively.

The joy that was glowing in the High Lord's eyes moments before was crushed and she could practically see everything running through his mind. He'd messed up. She'd somehow gotten into Velaris, through the intricate wards he had spent his whole life fortifying and protecting. Everything he'd worked on and protect crashing down on him as she walked up to him.

It was nearly mesmerizing the way the other four turned to look at her in perfect sync. While Amren and Morrigan's eyes turned hard, switching from a calm joy into calculated anger as they shifted into fighting stances. preparing for what was to happen, what fight they would have to have. Azriel and Cassian simply turned to her, shifting into a slight position, curiosity more than anything in their eyes. They knew her shadows had been in Velaris.

When she was merely ten paces away from them, her steps becoming light on the cobbles as her body prepared for a fight, a voice called out from the crowd, sending her stock-still, "Countess Ella!"

Panic rose in her chest, making her breaths come raspy and quick. Her eyes were wide as they stuck on the High Lord who never took his eyes off of her, shame rising and coursing through her as her past clawed its way through her mind. Invisible shadows wrapped around her shoulders, whispering horrid things in such a joyous-sounding chorus.

Was this why her shadows had pushed her to come today? Because they knew he would be here and they wanted to taunt and tear her down? It wouldn't be the first time they were selfish enough to come up with their own despicable plans against their master.

Mastering herself and forcing her breath to even, she turned, Onyx not tearing his eyes from the High Lord and his Inner Circle, and looked at the male approaching her, a wide and genuine smile on his lips.

He pushed through the crowd, the coat of his finely tailored suit flowing behind him, his white hair pulled back neatly and tied with a black ribbon at the nape of his neck, the color stark against his tanned skin. His green eyes were lit up with utter joy.

"It is you! It's been so long, what, six-hundred years?" he said, bowing as he got closer, the formality of it causing nausea to roll in her stomach.

"Something like that," Eva said, slipping into a different persona, the person she was long before her life truly started up, when she was merely a doting wife used to sitting in extravagant parlors, sewing or managing the household. "And please, I'm not a Countess anymore. I left the Count long ago, not long after you left court."

His expression fell, his lips pursing, though that joy didn't dim from his eyes. "That's too bad," He switched his attention to Onyx who had turned a fraction of the way to watch the conversation while still keeping a sharp eye on the High Lord. "Who's this?"

Eva put her hand on Onyx's shoulder, forcing him to turn the whole way. She had her shadows watching the Inner Circle for any movement, anyway, he didn't have to worry.

"Onyx, my dear friend and ward, though he prefers to be called my secretary." She said, and although Onyx gave her a fuming look, he shook the male's hand when he extended.

"Alexander, Ella's former clothier." He hardly gave himself enough time to breathe before he was on Eva, grabbing her hand and pulling off her glove, turning the hem of her sleeve back to look at the fine stitching, whistling lowly.

"You will be kind and call her Mistress Eva," Onyx corrected, moving closer to Eva, if that was even possible, preparing to slip between the two if needed. Alexander merely nodded, looking up at Eva and dropping her hand, handing the glove back.

"Did you design this?" he asked, the question striking Eva with a large dose of nostalgia that had her blinking slowly, her mouth falling open as she pulled off the other glove, both of them disappearing into the grasp of magic.

"I did," she said a bit sheepishly, pulling herself back together. Not even Onyx or Maria knew that she had designed clothes, it was something of her past, something she'd buried along with everything else.

"It's stunning," he said, stepping back to admire it more thoroughly. He raised an eyebrow finding Eva's eyes again, "Where's the string?"

She knew exactly what he was talking about. The actions were purely trained reflex as she grabbed onto the flap of the coat and folded it back to show a thin ribbon of white, the sting that, when pulled, would change the dress into something more fit for battle.

"Smart," he said, smiling, his eyes flicking to look behind her. "Especially when the High Lord looks like he wants to run you through with a sword. Do I need to stay and defend milady's honor?"

"I have Onyx for that. Besides, I have gotten quite adept at defending my own honor." She said, smiling at the way Alexander's eyes widened and lit up with surprise.

When she was the Countess, she never once picked up a blade, never once cared about learning how to defend herself. She was hardly in shape, her body aching every time she went for a ride on one of the many horses she'd owned.

"Well, it has been nice to see you again. It's nice to know that you made it through the wars, too many good people have died because of them. The world is already a better place knowing that you're still in it." He said, his voice turning to hold quiet sorrow as he bowed deeply and slipped back into the stream of people passing.

Steeling herself, Eva took in a deep breath and turned toward the High Lord, prepared for the onslaught of questions.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_Countess. Six-hundred years ago._

Azriel's thoughts drifted, making up Nevalah's past, and though he knew it was wrong, he couldn't stop himself. She had been a Countess six-hundred years ago, before the War, before taking mortal slaves was outlawed and with her title, she had to have had slaves. Hundreds of them if her high status had anything to say about it. And there was no doubt that her as a wife, as the Lady of the household, her duty, and her job was to master the slaves of her house and control them, assigning their work and choosing how they would be punished if they stepped out of line.

The thought of it sickened him. He couldn't imagine her, so kind and peaceful, standing there like a living goddess, controlling mortal lives as if they were worthless.

Eva looked so calm and controlled from where she stood in front of the High Lord, her shoulders pushed back and her chin held high, a faint smile on her lips, holding herself as if she owned the ground she was standing on without being imposing. Something that rarely anyone was able to do without seeming pretentious.

When she'd first walked out of the shadows, he had hardly recognized her. She barely looked the same, switching out her loose and flowing dress and long, wavy hair for a tight and constricting dress and carefully pinned up hair. It was like she had become a whole new person, a polite yet strong-willed court lady, nothing like the female he had spoken to before.

Her diamond-colored eyes were trained on the High Lord, her near-invisible shadows were twining and circling his family, waiting to see if they would attack her.

His High Lord was taking in pained breaths, practically seeping of compressed anger as he looked at Eva. The way she lifted her chin ever-so-slightly, he knew she was scared. Maybe not as much as she was the first time she met the High Lord, but it was still there. But then there was Onyx…

The way he stood by his mistress, his head held high, his body tensed, and his hand in a fist from where he hid it behind his back said enough: if anyone dared to even think about touching her, he would attack, no matter the consequence.

"How the Hell did you get here?" Rhys finally asked, his voice low, gravelly, though he tried not to show too much panic so that he didn't startle everyone walking past them. Lest they find out that someone had gotten through the wards. People would start to panic, and it wouldn't end well.

Eva took a deep breath that was constricted by her clothes and folded her hands in front of her bodice, the silver and gold rings decorating her slim fingers glinting in the sun. Her eyes drifted to the warm and cloudless sky as if she could see the wards she had sneaked through.

"The wards aren't broken," she said, her voice calm as she looked back to the High Lord as if she were having simple small talk. "I only got in because of my shadows and if I tried to winnow or use any other kind of magic, I would get struck down by whatever magic is keeping this place safe and be burned to a crisp."

Azriel had no idea how the wards worked or what protection measures they had, but he didn't doubt that that's what would indeed happen.

"How did you find out about Velaris?" Rhysand asked, mastering himself as he lifted his chin, rising back up to her level.

Azriel tensed, waiting for her to expose him, to say that he had led her here and had let her stay, but she simply said, "My shadows were surveying the Night Court, and as always, there was a large area where they couldn't go to. Let's just say I make my living off of being a bit too curious and I am currently unemployed and don't have a garden to look over."

He was relieved, but at the same time confused. She owed him nothing and they hadn't exchanged more than a sentence. But maybe she felt the same thing that he did. Maybe this instant connection was mutual.

That was foolish. Someone as perfect as her could never love him. Morrigan never loved him.

"Why are you here?" Rhysand asked, that sensual accent returning to his voice, though the pure command didn't leave.

"The Winter Court is nice," she started, looking down to her clothes before she looked back to the High Lord, "but I am fed up with the way they treat my friends like they are servants." She glanced over at Onyx standing beside her, the ghost of a sorrow-filled smile on her lips, before looking back to all of them. "Plus, Kallias thinks I'm plotting something against him. I don't blame him, but I can't stay there any longer for fear of losing my alliance with them."

"Get to the point," Rhys snapped, his voice shifted to something more darker and persistent, causing Eva's shadows grew thick around her shoulders for a flash of a second before she regained control of them, turning them into nothing but an invisible wisp winding around her body.

Mother, he had forgotten, her greatest fear was Daemati and she was standing in front of the two most powerful ones—his High Lady and his High Lord—but she was still not trembling. Somehow she'd gotten stronger since the last time he saw her.

"I want to stay here," she said, a sort of hope filling her voice that made Azriel's chest tighten. "Me, Maria, and Onyx, safely and without worry. I will work for you if that is what you ask of me."

Rhys took a moment to contemplate, and during the brief break, Onyx started mumbling under his breath, so low and quiet that Azriel couldn't pick it up. Though it looked like Eva knew what he said, for she put a steadying hand on his shoulder and whispered, "The only other place we could go is Adriata, and I don't feel like dealing with Tarquin quite yet."

Whatever that meant, it caused Onyx to cross his arms in front of his chest and turn, taking two steps away from them, his shoulders tense as he surveyed everyone passing.

"Give me all the information you have on my Inner Circle and Velaris," Rhysand said, the tone of his voice giving no room for argument. Eva's spine stiffened at the tone, and Azriel was expecting her to refuse, but she simply bowed her head in a nod, a stack of books appearing in her hand.

Six of the books were old and worn, the dark leather bare in some places. It reminded him of the stack of books she had given to them earlier, though these were older and even more worn. On each of the spines, the Night Court crest was engraved with a skilled hand alongside the careful spelling of each of their names.

She handed the stack to Rhysand and he was preparing to take the top book off to examine it, but she summoned another book and handed it to him, the newest one if the new-looking leather had anything to say about it, hardly a sliver of a book, and handed it to Rhys. "The one on Velaris," she said, and they all looked down at it over his shoulders.

On the front, engraved in an elegant hand, it wrote: _Velaris, the City of Starlight._ It was thin, but full with new and crisp pages. Rhysand flipped it open, leafing through the pages, pausing at a very descriptive and artistically done map of Velaris.

Major streets were labeled, places the Inner Circle frequently visited were circled and marked, description and details of the places written out on a separate page. She had to have been working tirelessly for the last two weeks to first gather all the information and be able to write it all down and organize it so perfectly.

Rhysand looked ready to kick her out of Velaris right then and there and send her back to the Winter Court, and Azriel was ready to argue and beg for him to allow her to stay, but she saved herself as if she had been ready to have to argue.

"I am already in love with this city and everyone that lives in it. It's the sort of place I always dreamed of, a place where my friends can live and not be looked down at as servants or anything less than myself." She added, holding a hand to her chest, resting right above the delicate ring of diamonds, "Maria and Onyx are brilliant, they are hardworking and have a stronger work ethic than even I do. If you won't allow me to stay, please, please, just let them."

It felt like his chest ripped open at the waver and strain in her voice, and at the tears that welled in her eyes. She was laying herself wide open. Rhysand already knew her greatest weaknesses and he could easily use them against her, overpowering her, but she was still here, unafraid, unbothered, fighting for the rights of her family.

But he knew his family, the Inner Circle, had already made up their minds about her as soon as the word "dreamed" fell out of her lips. Eva was like them, dreaming for a better world, a place where there was no discrimination and everyone could live peacefully together.

Onyx dropped his head to look at his feet, kicking the ground in front of him. Azriel's shadows pulled at his hold, begging to go and report on him, but Aziel kept them close to him.

"Do you have anything else on us?" Rhysand asked, his voice changing to be kinder, some of the panic leaving him.

Eva shrugged, the movement quick and smooth, tilting her head in thought. "I have more on Lady Feyre and her sisters, but it's hardly more than half a page dating their birth."

Feyre raised an eyebrow, stepping forward from where she was positioned behind Rhysand and Eva's attention shifted to her. "Why?" she asked, her voice strong.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Eva asked, crossing her arms across her chest. While the words were meant to sound imposing, her calm and gentle tone of voice said otherwise. It made Azriel curious about why exactly Eva had Feyre and her sister's names and birth dates written in a book.

"I have the right to know why you have information on me and my sisters," Feyre said, her voice staying steady even under Eva's unyielding gaze.

Eva sighed, her eyes drifting to the cobbled streets in front of her. This said enough that what she was going to say was going to be uncomfortable.

"I keep track of the descendants of my former slaves," Eva said, squeezing her eyes shut. "My ex-husband killed most of them before they managed to escape, but I managed to help ten of them. I handed them my fortune, leaving me with hardly enough to live, and made sure my shadows protected them and their blood for as long as it ran. Most of the lines have died out, leaving two families. Yours and another, living peacefully in Rask under the protection of its queen." She looked up at Feyre, both of their skin ashen.

Eva looked at Feyre, and Feyre looked at her. Neither of their eyes wavered from the other, but it wasn't because of fear or dominance, but instead an understanding: Eva cared and valued human lives, but at the same time, she'd just told Feyre that one of her ancestors was a slave, and he could see how the weight of that fact was pushing down on his High Lady's shoulders.

"You can stay," Rhysand started, pulling Eva's attention away from his mate. "But you have to take care of yourself, buy your own food, pay your own rent, find your own home, though I'm sure you've already picked someplace out."

She smiled and bowed her head in a nod while Onyx turned back and walked back up to her side, his eyes shifting across the group of people in front of him. "I have, actually,"

"One of us will check on you each day, and if we're unable to, you will report into Azriel." Rhys said, jerking his chin toward Azriel who gave her a nod when her eyes shifted to him.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head. "I will forever be in your debt."

She turned to Onyx, putting her hand on his shoulder so she could pull him closer to her, his legs brushing up against the heavy skirts of her dress. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered lowly so that none but him could hear. Azriel's shadows shot out and swallowed up the words: _Go tell Maria to get dressed, we will be staying at a nice inn for tonight. I will speak to Kallias tomorrow._

Onyx nodded as she pulled her head away, her shadows quickly coming up to gather him into their grasp and transported them, supposedly, back to the Winter Court. He relayed the message to the rest of the Inner Circle, knowing that they would want to know what she said.

Hardly anyone passing glanced over at the disappearing male and Azriel could see the way this made Eva feel, her eyes lighting up with joy and peace. Here, even she was seen as normal and accepted, her shadows nothing out of the ordinary.

"I fancy myself a walk down to a store so that I can change out of this dress." She said, turning half-way toward the ocean, down to where the Palace of Thread and Jewels awaited. "Would anyone accompany me?"

Azriel knew that the question wasn't just to ask if anyone wanted to go shopping with her, but offering herself up for their questions or to simply give them time to get to know her and feel her out in a way that wouldn't be too awkward for either of them. So that it didn't feel as forced or like the interview it was.

"I'll come," Mor said, stepping forward. She would never pass an opportunity to go shopping.

Morrigan still looked beautiful, like a perfectly painted picture. Her waving golden hair fell over her shoulders like molten sunlight, her red-painted lips were pulled up in a smile, and her fluttering red dress fell over her body, accentuating her curves even though she didn't need it.

But that's all it was. Any male or female could admit she was gorgeous, that was just a fact, but he didn't feel the same deep yearning for her anymore. He would still die for her, there was no question about that, but he didn't have the need to take her in his arms and promise her that everything would be fine, that he would be there for her no matter what happened.

He hated himself for it, but he also knew that she would always be loved and looked after. Even if he didn't love her in that way, he still cared deeply for her, and that's all that mattered.

"See you guys later!" Mor called out as she fell in step with Eva, walking backward as she waved. As soon as she turned back to face forward, she looked to Eva and said, "You design clothes?"

Azriel couldn't help but smile, especially Eva's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Kind of," she said, shrugging. "I hardly have enough time to anymore, but it was one of the only things I did when I was younger."

Married, was the word she didn't have to say. She had all the time in the world when she was nothing but a child, married and destined to a lifetime of baring children and sewing. And somehow, she'd gotten out of that marriage. No matter how it happened, he was glad of it, because he couldn't see her taking orders from anyone, especially a male she was married to.

None of them dared to move until Eva and Mor were nothing but a blur in the distance and a while after that and the way they looked at him, he knew they realized something about the nuance of his relationship with Mor: he wasn't going after her, to walk with them and make sure Eva wouldn't attack, nor did he offer himself up in the first place.

He was thinking about how Eva would never do anything to harm Mor, that he could trust her, not because he didn't care about his dear friend's health as much as he did.

"I may have made the worst decision ever," Rhysand said, the first thing anyone dared to say. Amren snorted before she turned away and left, going in the direction of her apartment, deciding that whatever conversation that was to come wasn't interesting enough for her to stick around.

"No," Azriel said, and everyone's head snapped to him. He made eye contact with all of his friends before he said, "She's a genius, she knows how to fight, and she is willing to do anything to give her friends a good life."

That in itself said enough about her person, that she wouldn't dare attack Velaris or the Night Court in general because this was the place where her friends would be safe and live freely, she wouldn't give that up, no matter what she truly wanted. And he hoped, truly hoped, that she didn't have any ulterior motives.

He was too scared to send a shadow to figure out if what he hoped was true, but honestly, he didn't want to know.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Nevalah walked down the empty white-marble hallway, frowning as she looked at the blank wall-papered walls as she moved towards the foyer of her new manor-home. They were still blank, not one painting or plant decorating the long, bright hall. It felt strange, that empty.

She had moved in over two weeks ago, but she had no furniture. All of it was back in the Summer Court and she didn't dare go back to her home, the wound of losing it was still too fresh. So she had decided to furnish the bedrooms, the office, library, dining room, and parlor first since those seemed more important than getting useless decoration.

Especially as she was running low on money, to the point where she had to start working again, though she couldn't complain. There was a reason why she chose this area to work, and it wasn't just for the extensive wealth it gave her.

Currently, she was working on four different cases, all of them easy and quick that took hardly any work at all. Honestly, they were overpaying for how simple and quick she could get the work done, but she needed the money.

As she got to the grand and sun-filled foyer, she paused in the center of the warm room and looked up at the large window on the wall above the tall wooden front doors. The warm golden light filtered through the window and warmed her skin as she straightened her top, a soft black velvet jacket.

She'd bought it for no other reason than the fact that she needed something that wasn't a dress for when she was working, and the material was so fine and the color so rich that she couldn't resist it.

The moment was short-lived because outside she heard the muffled voices of four members of the Inner Circle. Rhysand, Feyre, Morrigan, and Azriel. They hadn't even knocked, her shadows had told her that they were there. Her shadows hadn't neglected to say that they were all unarmed, save for Azriel, who they couldn't get a clear read of.

For the last week whenever they checked in on her, it was only one of them, normally just a sentence while they passed on the streets. She had made sure they never came to her home, making sure she always ran into one of them on the street, but she had been busy today with work and didn't have time or the need to leave her home.

Taking in a deep breath, she turned her face away from the warmth of the sunlight and walked up to the tall wooden doors, grabbing onto the golden doorknob and pulling the heavy door open to see the High Lord standing there, his hand mid-air as he prepared to knock.

"You took long enough," he said, smirking, his eyes looking her over, cataloging the multiple weapons she had sheathed over her body. His dark brows raised and she just offered an innocent smile.

As the High Lord said, "Preparing for a battle?" her eyes drifted to Alexander where he stood beside Morrigan and she froze, her mouth slowly falling open. She truly hated her shadows sometimes. They wanted to trick with her and she wished they were a real solid thing so she could knock some sense into them.

She looked back to the High Lord and stepped aside to let them in, taking a moment to compose herself. "I'm working," she said, forcing a polite smile even as she was mentally yelling at her shadows.

She patted the hilt of the dagger secured at her hip and smiled and nodded at Alexander who looked genuinely shocked, hoping that he could simply turn around and leave.

"Welcome to my home," she said, smiling warmly at Alexander as she pushed the heavy door closed and waited for him to finish his bow before she moved to the front of the small group, leading them back down the empty hall. She turned so that she was walking backward, her hands folded behind her back.

Her movement was silent, save for the hissing of the fabric of her pants as they rubbed up against each other, her steps otherwise silenced.

"I'm sorry there isn't much decoration," she said, and at the way they hardly glanced around the hall, she knew they couldn't care less about the decorations. "I'm running low on money and I have priorities—like eating. But all should even out after today if Maria doesn't decide to go buy a whole bunch of jewelry, which she very well might."

Eva couldn't help but smile, especially as Maria rounded the corner and Eva turned to her, bowing her head. Maria was dressed in a simple pastel-yellow dress, the linen light and flowing as it fell over her body in a stream to the floor where it hung loosely around her ankles. There were dots of stain where she had spilled a droplet of wine or where she'd dropped a bit of the stew she'd been cooking onto the delicately sewn hem of the dress. It was the clothes of a working woman.

"I have to look good while I cook, what else can I say?" Maria said, trying and failing to hide her smile. She pulled the strap of her worn leather bag further up her shoulder and held out a hand. "I need money so that I can go buy some spices."

Eva blinked and tilted her head, calculating in her mind how much money it would cost. She knew she had enough, but she liked to be exact. She looked over her shoulder at her five guests, looking over their curious faces. "Are you staying for lunch? I'm sure Maria would love to cook for someone that isn't me."

"Truly!" Maria burst out, no restraint in her voice as she stepped up beside her mistress, taking the slight bag of coins that she had summoned and slipped them into the bag. Azriel watched every movement. "It's been centuries. Eva never has guests, so the last time I cooked for someone else was when we were in the Dawn Court and she held a banquet for those that couldn't afford a fine meal. It was one of the best nights ever. Nyx said it was the night he fell in love with me."

Maria waited expectantly as she looked at them. With the pure joy in her full smile, Morrigan answered for the others. "We would love to!" If possible, Maria smiled even brighter, and as she walked away, there was a jump in her step.

Nevalah gestured with her head to the set of doors they'd stopped in front of. She had to take a moment to look over the finery of the door. At the gold inlaid to the white-painted wood. It was nothing compared to the grandeur of her old home, but it was still beautiful. She pushed the double-doors open and breathed deeply, letting the sweet scent of flowers fill her lungs.

It was like entering a whole different world. The glass table in the center of the room was sitting upon plush red carpet, a couch and two chairs all a fine red velvet accented with golden embroidery surrounding it. Little tables and plants litter the edges of the room, bordering some of the paintings Onyx had picked out and bought.

She gestured to the seats as she walked behind them, going toward her desk. "Please, sit and chat. I have to finish up some work." It wasn't a total lie, but she also needed time to center herself and figure out how she was going to deal with Alexander and steady herself so she could speak to him with seeming completely lost.

She slid into the sun-warmed upholstered leather chair behind her desk, the sunlight leaking through the window behind her lighting the shining polished wooden desk in front of her. This desk mostly contained little knick-knacks and a small stack of paper alongside pots of ink and her seal and wax. Her actual desk was up on the second floor in her office. A far grander and larger room than this one small parlor.

The High Lord and High Lady both took a seat on the couch beside Morrigan, all three of them quickly falling into a conversation about this new restaurant that they might want to go to sometime later that week. Alexander sat on the chair that faced away from her, but finally, her shadows whispered to her about him; how frightened and uncomfortable he was. She would've been able to tell that just by the strain his shoulders.

Azriel, on the other hand, sat by himself on the other chair, making no attempt not to watch her, his shadows heavy around his shoulders. She gave him a secret smile before she took a piece of paper and started to write, the scratch of the metal pen nib filling the air of the room.

It took but a moment for her to fall into the steady rhythm of work. Her shadows became visible as they darted out of the dark spots of the room to wrap around her ear and whisper and quick report before leaving once again.

Morrigan watched with open amazement, her eyes tracking the shadows as they faded in and out of existence. The High Lord and High Lady, on the other hand, were trying extremely hard not to seem intrigued, their eyes constantly flickering to her. It was only a matter of minutes before Alexander was looking behind him. His face leeched of all color once he saw all the shadows flocking around her.

She just hoped he would understand without having to explain.

Thankfully, Onyx appeared in the doorway of the room, appearing silently. He looked over the esteemed guests and instantly dismissed them, looking straight to Eva. "There's a problem," he said, his voice sudden as it broke the quiet conversation. All eyes turned to him. Alexander turned and looked to Onyx, his gratitude for the distraction obvious in the slump of his shoulders.

"What is it?" Eva asked, looking up from her work, willing her shadows to halt their continual work. He looked hesitantly around the room and tapped a long ink-and-dirt covered finger on the wood of the doorway. A shadow was immediately around his ear. Carefully, he whispered, _Nine of the books are gone._

She sucked in a short breath and all eyes shifted back to her, excluding Alexander, who was still staring at Onyx as if his life depended on it. The High Lord and Azriel stiffened, preparing to jump to their feet if anything happened. Eva crossed her arms in front of her chest as she leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and tilting her head back.

"Anything important?" she asked, opening her eyes and looking to Onyx.

He shrugged, the black material of his suit shifting. "Depends on what you classify as important."

She scrutinized him for a moment. He knew very well what important meant, the sly smile pulling up at the corner of his mouth said enough about his intentions. Onyx stared back at her and tilted his head slightly causing his fiery hair to shift.

Finally, he conceded and sighed, pulling his hand away from the wood of the doorway and crossed it across his chest. The sly smile was wiped away, replaced with a mask of indifference. The others watched on, their confusion evident in their silence.

Onyx sent another hesitant look around the room, but at a quick nod from Eva he said, "The only one that could be classified as important is Lucien Vanserra's."

"Shit," Eva muttered under her breath, causing the High Lord's eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline. Instantly, he was defending himself and his friends, "We didn't do anything."

"I know," Eva said and took another deep breath and straightened up in her chair. "My magic destroyed the book because I was careless about the limits of my magic and it simply couldn't hold it." She switched her attention back to Onyx and looked down at the book in his hand.

"Do you want me to start a new book?" he asked, making his way through the room toward her desk.

"No, the less blackmail material I have, the better." She said, earning herself a long, doubtful look from Onyx and super-raised eyebrows from Alexander. Eva waited, looking at Onyx as he stood in front of her. Finally, he lifted one of the books and dropped it on to the table. She recognized the title instantly: _Feuds of the Summer Court and their Houses._ He dropped another book on top of it: _The Noble Houses of the Summer Court and Their Staff._

"A hint would be nice," she said, pulling the books toward her, flipping them open to the pages he'd marked with a string of black ribbon.

"For that one job, the lady hired you to secure her travel and protection. Her husband's House is in a century-long feud right now, and one of her guards—"

"Is an employee of the rival House," she finished. Onyx nodded solemnly as she jumped to her feet. Alexander rose to his feet out of reflex, everyone stilling as she started to pull out her daggers and check them. One of them, a short knife, had a knick in the tip of the blade. She tossed it to Onyx and he grabbed it out of the air easily. He looked down at the blade and frowned.

"That's hardly anything," he mumbled.

"It's enough to get in my way," she said, looking down at the manifest half-hidden under the books. She checked the name, the quick scrawled description of the traitor and sent her shadows after him. They were back in a split-second, swirling around her shoulders. They reported, _The male has a letter with the seal of House Rivv, inner coat pocket, above the left breast._

She nodded at the information and sheathed the dagger she was inspecting and looked up at the High Lord who seemed genuinely confused, his eyebrows raised. "The lovely lady I am employed to protect is in danger of immediate assassination. I now must go and assure her a safe journey and the capture of the assassin. I will return in an hour or so, depending on how hard this male makes it."

She gestured to Onyx who looked absolutely done with her dramatics. "He will entertain you, or try to." He scowled at that and she just smiled.

As her shadows started to surround her to transport, Onyx started to stack up the books and muttered under his breath, "I help her save someone's life and all I don't even get a thanks."

"You can go buy a piano after this," she said right before her shadows swallowed her, carrying her back to the Summer Court. His eyes lit up, his head snapping up to thank her, but she was already gone, a cloud of sparkling shadows in the place where she, moments before, stood.

* * *

Eva came back to the parlor an hour later, fading in from shadows, to find it empty. A half-thought had her shadows telling her they were all in the dining room preparing for lunch, laughing and chatting. She looked around the room and its extravagant trappings, and breathed in deeply to settle the adrenaline rising in her. She reached out with one of her fingers to feel the cold wood of the desk, using the steadiness of it to pull her back down to reality.

Whenever she worked or got into any sort of fight, she ascended to such a place where her mind was empty and barren, her only thoughts revolving around her next breath and step and her opponent's next breath and step. Even though it wasn't much of a fight, in truth there hadn't been any fight at all, she still had to dedicate her whole focus to the situation to ensure the safety of everyone.

The second she had appeared on the worn dirt path in the center of the Summer Court under the warm, blazing sun, a beautifully crafted carriage lumbering ahead of her, she started stalking slowly behind the large black mare that the assassin was on.

He had broad shoulders and a proud posture, his hand always twitching toward the dagger hidden inside his leather armor, uncertainty filling his every move. It wasn't long until she jumped on him and gripped her arms around his waist to pull him down from the horse. In a couple of quick moves she had the hulking male on the ground, incapacitated and breathing heavily, his letter in her hand.

The other three guards following behind the carriage were instantly on her, assuming that she was the assassin, but she quickly took out letters and passed them to the closest guard. One of the letters was from the inside of the assassin's coat, the other one the letter she'd received for her hire. The guard quickly looked over the letters and passed it to the head guard who had jumped down from the front of the carriage to inspect it.

During all of this, she held the tip of the dagger to the thin neck of the male held underneath her. He was shaking, sweat beading at his brow. Part of her honestly felt bad for him. He obviously wasn't made for being an assassin and whoever was in charge of assigning him to do this work was utterly idiotic.

Then that was that. Her papers were confirmed by the lady in the carriage and she received her coin after she delivered the male back to the lady's manor and her husband, leaving the rest of it to him.

Now, she started out of the parlor and turned left down the hallway, heading toward the back of the manor and the dining room that sat against the back wall. A small leather pouch of coins jingled at her hips from where it was secured to her belt, the only sound notifying her presence. She walked to where the light spilled through a floor-length window, the light making the marble sparkle.

The further down the hallway she went, the stronger the scent of exotic spices was; the louder the sounds of clashing voices were. It was obvious the High Lord and the members of his Circle felt comfortable without her present, and she didn't blame them.

She unsheathed her blades quietly and inspected them before she had her shadows swallow them, happy that there was no blood spilled on them and that they remained in pristine condition.

She made it to the end of the long and empty hall and stood before the tall and heavy dining room doors. She opened the door just as Maria was walking up to it, a bright smile on her face. Onyx rose to his feet as soon as he saw Eva, hurrying to match the long strides of his wife. It was clear by his pace that he would rather not spend another minute alone with some of the most powerful warriors in Prythian.

"You're back!" Maria said, not at all surprised at her appearance, as Eva dropped into a quick half-bow. Maria returned it in a half-hearted curtsy. The movement, however sloppy, showed the traces of her sparse court training.

Eva looked past her friends at the dining room and its barren decorations. Only one tapestry hung on the wall depicting an unnamed queen standing in the center of a room full of male courtiers, all of them gawking at her. Her face was shrouded in shadow, the only parts of her visible were the fine jewels glistening at her neck and in her crown, and the way the loose material of her dress hung on her curving figure. The weaver had called it 'For her Crown; not her Self' but had refused to say what it meant.

The glossy mahogany table in the center of the room was already set with white porcelain plates and cheap-looking glasses. It was the cheapest things that Eva could buy. There was no need to spend money on such extravagance when she needed to focus on being fed and clothed.

Morrigan sat at the head of the table where Maria normally sat, the High Lady to her right and Azriel to her left. Alexander sat next to Azriel, looking as pale as usual. The High Lord sat next to his High Lady and Eva didn't graze past the fact that Lady Feyre wouldn't be sitting next to any of Eva's party.

"Nyx and I were just going to grab the food," Maria said, looking up over her shoulder at her husband as he made haste to stand beside her. Eva stepped out of the way to allow them to pass, pushing back on the door to open it further.

"Do you need help?" Eva asked as Maria breezed past her, the scent of spices wafting after her. She paused for a moment and looked to Eva, shook her head, and continued down the hall. Before Onyx could get past her, she reached out her hand and gestured for him to stop. Maria paused and turned to watch as Eva untied the small pouch of coins at her hip and handed it over to him.

He smiled and dropped into a bow and muttered, "Thank you," before he turned and continued down the hall with Maria. He grabbed Maria's hand and lifted it before he dropped the bag of coins in her hand. He said something with his voice low, and Maria snorted in a very un-ladylike way, causing a smile to break out on her husband's face.

Eva watched them continue down the hallway for a couple more seconds before she looked back into the dining room and the five faeries looking at her. She pushed the doors open further so that they were as wide as they could be and entered the room fully.

But she didn't sit down. She only walked to the end of the table and turned to look out the wall of windows, letting the warm light wrap around her.

Her back gardens had rich green grass and plenty of areas open for gardening and plants. By the summer she had it planned that the gardens would be full and flourishing. Beyond the backyard was a small cobbled walkway, and beyond that was the Sidra. Every once and a while someone would walk by carrying bags or their nose stuck in a book.

"You don't have servants," Alexander observed, his voice breaking the silence. Eva's head snapped to him, surprised that he was the first one to speak. Once, they had been good friends. Able to talk for hours on end without becoming weary, so she didn't understand why it felt so strange.

"I don't," Eva said, walking around the table so that she could take her seat beside the High Lord. She wasn't going to let Onyx or Maria sit beside him, no matter how good his intentions were.

"Why not?" Alexander asked, his eyebrows raised slightly. Color was finally starting to return to his face and something other than fear or shock was in his expression. After all, she had been his employer and friend. He still trusted her, no matter how changed she was.

The question didn't shock her as much as it seemed to shock Morrigan, whose eyebrows were nearing her hairline. Alexander only knew who she had been all those centuries ago: a great lady in a full, bustling palace. Not who she was, whatever she had become.

"I don't need them," she said, and Alexander tilted his head slowly, his eyebrows knitting together. It looked like he was trying to solve the hardest math equation he'd ever seen. Because she did not doubt that Azriel, the Spymaster, had already gathered plenty of information about her, she said, "I'm no great lady anymore, Alexander, so I don't have to uphold an image. I can order my own dresses, do my own hair, dress myself. Plus, many things in this house shouldn't ever fall into the wrong hands. Or anyone's hands. So it's actually for the welfare of me and the whole of Prythian not to have half a dozen people rummaging around in the shadows of my home."

Eva's gaze didn't break away from Alexander and his jaw fell open slightly his face paling. Just as the High Lord started to tense, Maria came through the doorway, a tray of steaming fish in her hands. Only when she spoke did Eva look away. "Stop being so dramatic. You're going to scare him off."

"I'm only telling the truth," Eva said, unable to hold the genuine smile on her lips. Although with her previous statement, it only made her look menacing. Maria got to the table, and with the help of a baffled Alexander, placed the dish of fish in the center of the table. By the smell, it seemed that Maria had gotten her hands on more of that Summer Court spice from Adriata.

"A very dramatic version of it, yes," Onyx said, four dishes of sides balanced on his arms. It was a testament to his steady steps and stillness that none of the food had spilled over the side or had been dropped. Maria helped him place them on the table before he left the dining room, no doubt going down to the wine cellar where only three bottles of wine wait.

"You should go," Maria said as she sat down beside Alexander. The others began to serve themselves, but at Maria's words, they slowed their work to pay close attention. It was impossible to ignore the fact that Nevalah and Maria were the enemies.

"Why?" Eva asked, no anger or disdain in her voice, only genuine curiosity. At that, the others continued their serving at a quicker pace.

"I know that look in your eyes—you were prepared for a fight, you didn't get one, and you're going to search for one until you find it, no matter if you're aware of it or not." Maria said as she started to pile her plate with food. "Go to one of the empty rooms and do whatever you do with your sword."

"Do whatever I do with my sword?" Eva asked as she rose to her feet. Maria was right and there was no need to stay when, whether she wanted to or not, she would get herself into a fight. And she knew getting in deep-shit with a High Lord was not something she wanted any time soon.

"What?" Maria said, grinning. "I do knives, not swords. They're too long and pointy."

"Long and pointy is what you want," the High Lord said, followed by a snort from Morrigan and a barely controlled laugh from the Lady Feyre and a half-smile from Azriel. Maria, on the other hand, burst out laughing as Onyx came back in, two bottles of wine in his hand. He smiled at his wife as he set the bottles on the table and took Eva's vacant spot. He no doubt having heard what Maria said.

Eva stepped away from the table and when she was at the doorway turned and, addressing the whole room, she said, "Just remember if you get any dumb ideas in your mind, I am just upstairs with a very long and very pointy sword and I can be down here in less than half a second."

No matter the playful tone of her voice and smile, the true threat was still there. And with that gleam in her eye, she looked like she meant it with every ounce of her being, which she did. If anyone attacked her family, she would be there in a fraction of a second and wouldn't hold back as she fought with all her might.

* * *

Alright, so this is totally out of character for me, but I have a little thing about Eva to tell y'all. It will help later in the story to understand some of her decisions, though it isn't _that_ important for you to know. What I'm saying is that I'm giving this bit of information here because there is nowhere for me to put in the story. Trust me, I've tried, and failed, many times.

Okay, so here's the tea: Eva is panromantic and demisexual.

Panromantic = A person who is romantically attracted to others but is not limited by the other's sex or gender.

Demisexual = A demisexual is a person who does not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone.

I learned this about her when I was just chilling in bed, thinking about the story, then I had the idea of her saying, "It doesn't matter if you're a male or female or anything in between, as long as you're not shit I can love you."

Of course, that isn't really in character, but I still love it and it made me think more about her sexuality. I didn't even have to think hard, because I already knew, in a way. She just _is_ panromantic and demisexual and no matter what happens, no matter if I wanted to change it, that is who she is and I love her for it.


End file.
